Hetalia Pirate Adventures
by TheAnimeAmigos
Summary: The ongoing adventures of Captain Kirkland and his crew. (Rated T for Romano's mouth and suggested yaoi) [DISCONTINUED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE]
1. Chapter 1

**A/** **N This our first fanfic, we hope you enjoy it. All characters belong to** **Hidekazu Himaruya.**

Far beyond the horizon, the sea was softly swaying, as if waving to the pastel sunset. Calm. This late evening was perfectly tranquil from the sea's coral to the-

''I AM THE HERO!''

''Shut up,-a- you hamburger bastard!''

''Pastaaaaaaaaaa!''

Amidst this new found chaos was Captain Kirkland. He was hidden away in his quarters, fed up.

''Damn those Wankers!'' He sighed, pulling out a book and a quill, he vigorously began to write:

'Dear diary,

They're all bloody gits! I take a break for one day and China gets us lost; America nearly set the cannons off- where the hell was Germany? On the brightside, the Italian idiots didn't set my boat on fire. But France, that FROG FACE,

He is so…'

He was just finished writing when -BANG-BANG-BANG!

''Iggz lemme in!''

''What do you want America?'' the captain sighed.

''Gimme the rum you big douche!''

In the cabin, the captain eyed the rum protectively.

Along came another bang and the door came flying off it's hinges.

''Sod off, I'm the captain, so I get pick of the treasure'' He waved America off.

''Not today!'' America yelled as he grabbed the diary and ran off.

The Brit was quickly on his heels when he realised what the American had taken.

 **Three hours before**

''It will be totally fine dude,''

''But I don't rant to upset the captain,''

''Just grab the goods and go, it's totally cool.''

''...''

Japan and America were crouched outside Kirkland's door, closely observing the mad Brit.

''I, the hero, will distract him, while you, my lowly sidekick, grab the gold!''

Japan was not impressed. He stared blankly before nodding in agreement.

This takes us to Alfred running around the ship, Arthur not far behind him. Then-PLOP- the diary was in the water.

''No, you wanker! He's drowning!'' Artie cried.

''Chill dude,'' America said ''It's all good.''

Then the yank grabbed Britain's leg, pulling him into the deep blue.

America came up laughing hysterically, followed by a choking Brit. ''You wanker!'' he spluttered ''Why on earth would you do that?!''

Still ranting to the yank, Britain failed to notice a rather intimidating dapple fin appear on the water's surface.

''Sh-shark!'' stuttered the slightly tipsy Englishman as he started to panic.

America, however, continued to laugh and waved at the creature. ''Chill Iggz, it's just Whale-Dude''

England was not amused. ''Keep your pets away from my ship!''

"But Dude! He's my buddy,"

''Bloody git!, get me on my ship!''

America leant back, ''Relax will you?, I'm sure Francy Pants will save us''

This caught the Brit off guard and he started to struggle. ''NO! Not Francy Pants anyone but Frog Face!''

An amused Alfred taunted the panicked Englishman, ''That's not what your diary said.''

"I'm the bloody United Kingdom, you don't know me!"

The commotion had created quite an audience on the ship. All of the crew that weren't drinking the captain's prized rum had come to to watch the scene.

''Germany!, Germany!, Maybe you should help. If I help he might give me scones!''

''Fine. Kapitän? Vould you like some help?''

''Ah Germany, old chap, thankyou,''

''No way dude!'' And with that the American climbed up on deck, dragging the Englishman up with him.

After scrambling aboard, the smell of rum intoxicated the Brit's nostrils. Not just any rum, his rum.

With that, he reached for his pistol and quickly got to his feet. ''Right, which one of you sorry lot has stolen my rum?!'' He turned on his heel, glaring daggers at each and every one of them – especially the Italian who was waving a white flag.

''Woah dude. Calm down!'' America said, while trying to pry the gun from Kirkland's hand.

'' It wasn't me, I swear, it was-a- big -a- brother France! Germany, Germany! Help me, he's -a- going to make me eat his food!'' Italy cried as Prussia sniggered in the background.

''Ohohohohoh moi? Non, it was our little friend Japan here.'' replied France, gesturing towards Japan.

''Please captain, it rasn't me it was America-kun's idea.''

Britain span around and cast an evil glare towards America.

''Dude you need to chill.'' America said as he placed a heavy hand on the captain's shoulder.

He held the gaze for a few more seconds before knocking Prussia out with a rum bottle and returning to his quarters.

''Okay dudes, who's ready to get WASTED?!'' Yelled a hyped Alfred.

''I made pasta!''


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Happy new year! And a special thanks to MeltingCandle for our first follower. Hope you enjoy. All characters belong to Hidekazu Himaruya.**

After getting completely hammered a couple of nights before, The Flying Mint's passengers had just come come to grips with the ships heavy maintenance. For example Germany was cleaning the cannons, while Italy, the ship's cook, was scrubbing the decks.

Up the mast, a certain Italian was busy cursing his place on lookout.

"Stupid scone Bastard! Why-a- do I have to keep lookout? I'm not supposed to be here in the first place!" He sighed as he looked out to the horizon, only to notice a distant ship closing in on their waters. On first glance it could have been a simple merchant ship, but then he noticed the Spainish flag.

"For the love of fucking tomatoes!

Why this guy?! Hey Potato bastard!," He shouted to the German, who was carefully inspecting the cannons, "You might what to see this!"

The German sighed as he started to climb the mast. "Vat do you vant now?"

Angry Romano was agitated by the German's attitude. "Shut the fuck up you potato-loving bastard! Why don't you look?!" He pointed to the nearing enemy ship with a very annoyed and flustered look on his face.

Realisation dawned on the German. "Italy!"

The startled Italian looked up from his cleaning. "Wha-what did I-ya do now? I'm sorry! Please don't make me walk the plank!"

Germany snapped. "No you Italian dunkoff! Just get the captain!"

"Y-yes Germany!" the nervous Italian said as he scampered towards the Captain's quarters.

Britain was mapping out the oceans he had concord, when the Italian knocked.

"Come in!", the Brit looked up in his visitors direction, "What do want? And don't tell me you set the kitchen a-light," Britain said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

The Italian was terrified. "C-captain, Germany says he needs you out on deck!" And with that, the Italian fled the room crying.

"What the bloody hell was that about?" the Brit questioned, before putting his sword in it's hilt and grabbing his cup and saucer of tea, then leaving for the main deck.

"Germany, what in the name of Earl Grey is going on?"

"Captain, I am zorry for disturbing you, but you may vant to to look at zis."

Kirkland passed he tea to China, who just happened to be passing by.

"I'm not your slave!" He cried.

"Shut up, Wanker!" the Brit replied. Slowly, he pulled a gold telescope from his belt and spotted the incoming ship.

"Well Germany, my good fellow, I don't see the problem, there is gold, silver, not to mention jewels, just right for attacking. And they look more hungover that us on a good day."

Germany looked unsure, "Ah, yes Captain. I'll ready the cannons."

The Captain climbed the mast and drew his sword, "Battle stations crew!"

The Captains 'crew' all obliged except for the American, who was nowhere in sight.

Minus the Yank all the crew were assembled, armed with various weapons of there choosing.

Closing in on the enemy's ship the older of the Italian pointed out, "Where's hamburger bastard?"

This earned a snide remark from Prussia as he shrugged, "Who cares? He's probably off sulking somewhere because of how unawesome he is!"

Then the American casually walked on deck and kicked Prussia at full force in the back. "The hero is here!"

"And where have been? Were you going to leave us to fight this 'orrible battle alone" The over dramatic French man, interrogated Alfred.

"No, of course not, the totally awesome hero," he put emphasis on 'awesome' while glaring at Prussia, needed his hero sleep! And then I heard this old guy and-"

Kirkland was quick to interject, "I'm not old!, I'm-"

"No,no not you, this dude." The American referred to Prussia who was trying to escape from his captors foot.

"Suck it loser. You'll never be as awesome as the awesome ME!" With that, America stomped down on the Prussian, who finally gave up. Okay, okay!, lemme up!"

Just after Prussia got up, the ships met, "Hey Lovi, I came to save you!" the approaching Spaniard's voice rang. "Don't call me that!" Southern Italy replied in annoyance. The battle had begun.

It was a long, hard felt fight, which consisted of Germany taking countries with his bare hands, China and his wok, Japan trying to regain his honour after he stole and Romano shouting abusive language from the enemies mast he'd climbed.

On the opposing side, Spain was clashing swords with the British captain, while watching his crew fall one by one. Of course some of the Flying Mint's crew were down for the count like France, who was currently begging Poland not to cut his precious locks off.

"Hey Lithuania, you should like, totally come and help me," Poland demanded, but his friend was hiding in the lower decks along with Italy, who was hoping Germany hadn't noticed his absence.

It was when Spain caught a glimpse of Romano he tripped, giving victory to Kirkland.

"Haha, I win," he exclaimed, " France, give me the rope." Britain blabbed, like a kid.

"Ohohoh, feeling kinky are we?"

"Sod off," the captain disarmed the pirate and raised a sword to Spain's neck, "So, any last words?" The Brit tormented.

"Come on compardre, it's been along day and I could really use a siesta," Spain gave a nervous gulp when the victor showed no sign of giving in, "Mi amigo, I'm sure we can figure something out, I'll even give you some tomatoes?" He tried

Britain didn't really care about tomatoes, after all with the ships captain gone he could take what he wanted, couldn't he? But something bothered him. The look the older Italian gave Spain was a mix of guilt, and apprehension. Why was that?, the Brit racked his brain but no explanation came. With that Arthur striked with his sword. Everyone but Romano, who just stared in terror, closed their eye and waited for a scream of pain but it never came. Instead of impaling the beaten Spaniard, the Brit tapped him on the shoulder in a knighting fashion.

"You join my crew, and follow, my orders, gather your 'amigos' and be on my ship within an hour, get your things, but I get pick of the treasure." Britain, simply walked away with no further explanation. However before he made it to his ship, the seas became a live with a fleet of whales?

In the middle of all this was America, rising out of the water on a monster of a whale. "Yo dudes! Ya miss me? Don't worry you can end your fighting now, 'cause the hero is here!"

"Wanker, he ruined the moment," Britain whispered to himself, "Hey America? We have some new members, so you in charge of the welcoming ceromony," and he contiued to climb over the make-shift planks back to his ship.

America jumped onto the ship and waved goodbye to his whale friends "Wahoo, a party!, See ya dudes!"

 **Later that day**

Prussia barged through the lower deck's doors, "Keseseses, the awesome me is going to get awesomly drunk! Come on Gilbird! Come on you unawesome people, let's party!"

His younger brother followed, questioning how he got stranded with him in the first place.

Next, America rolled in, in an empty wine barrel, with France carrying full wine barrels behind him.

"Hey dudes look what we found,"

"We will have quite ze party to night!"

Britain was slumped in his 'throne', "We can't have a party without guests, Frog Face, go and find them."

"But why me?!"

"Just hurry up."

Outside, the air was cool and crisp with the slightest trail of smoke, coming from the Spaniard's old ship, also known as 'The Tomato'. At the stern of the ship was Spain staring at his burning ship. "Beunos noches," he whispered sadly to his beloved vessel, feeling guilty.

"Hey, jerk bastard, why did you give up so-a- easily huh? You could have took Scone Bastard down easily." A voice broke through Spain's thoughts. When these words computed with him he was shocked, "Roma? Calm down. Are you trying to get yourself shot?!"

"No, Scone Bastard is inside, now answer my-a-question."

"Well, like I said, I came to rescue you but then you were working with Britain so..."

Romano huffed." No way! It was Potato Bastards fault! He got us stranded, we were like-a-sitting spaghetti! Then Scone-jerk came along and you were nowhere to be seen!"

"Can you ever forgive me?"

Meanwhile France had crept just close enough to here the conversation.

Romano stuttered and was slowly turning bright red, "Well I guess I….. I guess…."

"Oh, hey amigo!," Spain greeted the hiding French man, "Oh Lovi, you look like a tomato!"

now Romano was redder than a tomato. "Jerk!" He cried as he ran, stifling tears. Spain called after him.

 **Back at the so called party..**

"Where the bloody hell are they?!" Arthur asked as Romano came rushing in.

"What's up dude?" America asked, not really caring for an answer.

"Bastards ." Roma said under his breath, and he downed a bottle of wine.

"Hey-a- bro,were is Spain?" Italy asked.

"Ja, it is very suspicious, he has been gone for ages." The German agreed.

Britain impaled another wine barrel and examined his sword, "I'm sure he'll be fine after all, our 'amigo' just lost his ship, but the ungrateful wanker could at least turn up to his own welcoming ceremony!"

America took the sword off the Brit and replied, "Okay dude that's enough, I'm sure they'll be here soon. Anyway do we care if he turns up, the hero just wants to get wasted!"

"Ve! He's with big brother France and Prussia right now. I'm sure he'll be-a-fine!" The Italian the skipped off and dragged Germany, and an irritated Germany at that, with him.

"Prussia? I never sent him? Oh sod them! They better not be in my rum again!" The captain ran to his quarters.

America felt very rejected "Oh well, screw them, the hero will get drunk on his own!"

Then he downed a bottle of wine.

And so, America and Romano were left to get wasted: captain Kirkland was left to defend his rum from a drunk Prussia, Japan, China, Poland and Lithuania, France tried to comfort Spain, but being the big perv he was, there was no prevail and Germany and Italy had retired for the night.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N - Hi guys! Lu here (or as Emm says, 'the other half of the amigos'.) First, I wanna say I'm REEEEEALY sorry for taking so long to update - *sobs* please forgive me! T~T**

 **And second, I wanna explain how this is gonna work. Basically, this account belongs to two of us (Emm and I) and we both are writing this fic. We both wrote the first chapter, Emma wrote the second and I wrote the third - so we're gonna keep alternating like that. (Don't like it - don't read.)**

 **Anyway, it's a bit long, but without further ado - here's chapter three!**

 **(I hope you enjoy)**

Germany grumbled to himself as he bent down to pick up a crate, the British dunkoff had forced him, Italy, Romano and his older brother Prussia to join his 'crew' (though not much forcing was needed for Gilbert once he had spotted Francis). They had been stranded until the Flying Mint had eventually found them, for which, they were grateful - until the brat had threatened to kill them if they didn't do as he said. He was reluctant but he did as he was told, as he knew he was going to make Arthur pay once this was over.

He shook the thought of strangling the Brit out of his mind as he carried on carrying crates, right now they were docking up.

He spotted a sleepy Italy, who was having a hard time carrying a small crate. 'He should seriously stop slacking off during training' the German thought to himself.

He watched as the Italian struggled to carry whatever it was in the crate and felt the sudden feel of sympathy and, before he could stop himself, walked over to the young Italian. "Good morning Italy, did you sleep vell?"

The Italian perked up, "Germany! Germany! Good morning-a- Germany! And-" He dropped the crate. "Oh no! Mr scary Captain is-a- going to make me walk the plank if I-ya don't hurry up!" He again picked up the crate but soon dropped it.

The German watched in awe as the Italian failed at performing such a simple task. He sighed, took the crate from the Italian and balanced it atop of the one he was already carrying.

Italy looked as if he was about to protest but realised that Germany was more than capable of carrying both crates. "Grazie! Grazie! Wow Mr Germany is so strong!"

The small Italian hopped onto the German's back, giving him a hug from behind. "And muscly too!"

Ludwig almost fell when Feliciano glomped him, but instead of dropping him, he leant forward so the person clinging to him could properly stay on his back.

The brunet gave a yelp in surprise and the German smiled to himself. "Vell, ve couldn't have you valking the plank could ve now?"

This earned a laugh from Italy as he wrapped his arms around the blonde's neck. "Thank you Germany."

Then, said German continued both their jobs with a giggling Italian on his back.

*Later that evening*

The majority of the Flying Mint's passengers all filed into the bar. As usual, America burst in first shouting something about the hero being here, followed by a grumbling Britain; an already tipsy Prussia who was dragging an equally tipsy France; a hyperactive Italy clung to an unusually happy Germany, and then Poland who was, for some reason, wearing a dress and holding the hand of a rather embarrassed Lithuania.

Finally, there was Spain, who had his arm around an angry looking, flustered Romano. "Unhand me now Bastardo! You're going to make these people think we're together or something!"

The Spaniard gave a laugh, then a small smirk at the Italian. "Oh but Lovi, your face goes red like a little tomato when I do this!"

Romano's blush deepened. "I said unhand me you bastard!"

The Spanish pirate ignored his demand and tightened his grip, pulling him closer. "Now, now Lovi, that's no way to talk to boss is it?" With that, the Spaniard reached for the curl on the side of the Italian's head and gave it a tug.

He stopped, dead in his tracks, and if it were possible, Romano's face reddened, the bastard had taken it too far. He grabbed the hand that was holding him and flipped it's owner over his shoulder, making him land with a thud on the floor. He gave a kick to the stomach. "Bastard, when I-ya tell you to unhand me, you unhand me! Alright?! And you are NOT my-a- boss!" Another kick and the fuming Italian stormed off to meet with the rest of the crew.

Obviously that had been a big mistake as he was met with a staring audience and Prussia laughing hysterically. "Oh wow, the awesome me would've been so much more awesomer! Oh heck, I bet even West would've been better at flirting than that!" Germany cast an evil glare towards his older bother.

"Shut-a- up you potato bastard!" Romano sat down and immediately started drinking.

France spoke up, "honhonhon, it will be perfectly fine, our 'ittle Lovi here just needs to open up." He gestured towards Britain who was sat with America, drinking rum. "Just like somebody else I know."

"Shut it frog! I would never date you in a million years!" He had an angry look plastered on his face.

"Ohoho, after all, you do 'ave your 'ands full with our 'ittle Amérique here." The Brit grit his teeth and had to force himself not the throttle the 'frog' then and there. "There is clearly sexual tension between y-" He was cut off by a bottle being thrown at his 'gorgeous' face.

"I said shut it frog!" The Brit's face was crossed with a light blush.

America, however, seemed oblivious to the whole situation and was more interested in the Russian who was walking over to them.

"Hello friends! I see you are all enjoying yourselves this evening." The Russian gave them a welcoming smile.

Britain gave scowl in response to Russia's smile. "Yes, and may I ask why you are here?" He asked, spite clearly shown in his voice.

"I own the place!" Russia said happily, ignoring the obvious irritation that his presence brought the other. "But seeing as you're here, do you mind if I introduce you to my crew?"

The Brit sat back. "Tsk, whatever."

The Russian smiled. "Good, because if you had said no, I would have killed you."

This made the rest of the group fidget, especially Lithuania.

"Okay, so here we have Latvia, Estonia, Austria, Hungary, Ukraine, Belarus and our newest member, Canada!" He pointed to a table where said people were sat.

America almost choked and spat his drink out when he heard his brother's name. "Mattie?!"

Mathew turned around and made eye contact with his brother. "Alfred?"

America got up and darted over. "Mattie? What the hell are you doing with a big psycho like Russia?!" He grabbed Canada rather roughly by his collar and started shaking him for answers.

The younger nation was being slightly strangled. "Well," America continued choking him. "If you - would just let me breathe. I'll tell you."

Alfred realised what he was doing and instantly released his brother from his grasp. He laughed nervously. "Ah, sorry Matt."

The small Canadian sighed and adjusted his glasses. "Well-"

"Tell me! He didn't force you to did he?" America clenched his fists and eyed Russia suspiciously. "I swear I'll blow that bastard to pieces if he-"

"No!" The Canadian shouted, rather loudly compared to his usual volume, before returning to his quiet and reserved self. "N-no. It's nothing like that. I-"

"What then? Why the hell are you with Russia of all people?!" America was becoming angry again and Canada had to use all of his strength to get him to sit down.

"I-l" he felt tears begining to build up. "I just wanted to be noticed!" The Canadian yelled before bursting into tears and burying his face into Mr Kumajirou's fur.

The American froze, and any anger that he may have been feeling in that moment was quickly replaced with realisation.

"M-Mattie? Why? You know you don't have to do this. So why?" America seemed so confused but deep down, he knew exactly why he'd done it.

Canada looked up, dried his eyes and recomposed himself after Hungary had pried his hands away from the polar bear. "Al, look, I can take care of myself, there's no need to worry." He gave a reassuring smile which told Alfred he was fine.

Alfred was still unsure but managed one of his goofy smiles. "Okay dude, whatever you say!" He dragged the younger to his feet. "But at least come sit with us, these guys are laaaame!" Both Hungary and Belarus gave him threatening looks but said nothing.

Meanwhile, at the other table, Britain had gotten drunk and was throwing insults at Russia. "You wanker! You think you're a better captain than me?! Think again! Just look, you don't even have a proper crew! The only two decent enough to be considered pirates are Hungary and Belarus! And they're just two girls!"

Hungary had overheard this and soon strolled over to the drunk Brit and casually hit him in the head with a frying pan. "I'm sorry, did you say something?"

He was knocked down but soon regained posture. "You bitch! Why on earth did you do that?!" He stood up, he was slightly taller than her.

"Simple, you insulted the female race. Am I right Belarus?" She looked over to her friend but received no reply as she was busy chasing Russia around the bar.

"Yeah, well the fact that you are female is the only thing stopping me from hitting you right now!" He gave her a rather cruel look.

"You disgust me." She spat at him. "And you call yourself a captain."

She was receiving wolf-whistles and cat-calls from the bad touch trio who were already wasted and sat back enjoying the show; Romano was attempting to calm his brother down who was frantically waving a white flag, wanting them to stop, and Lithuania, Poland and Canada were sat there poker faced, all while America laughed at them.

The Brit clenched his fists and looked as if he was about to throw a punch at the Hungarian, until Germany cleared his throat. "Um, kapitän?"

"What do you want now Germany?" His voice was cold and bitter. "Can't you see I'm busy here?"

Russia butted in. "Ah, it's nice to see you two getting along." He wrapped his arms around both of them, pulling them in for a bone-crushing hug.

"Get off me you Russian wanker!" He shrugged the heavy arm from his shoulder and span around to face him. "You're always actings as if you're better than me! Well I'll show you who's better!" He lowered his voice. "I challenge you to a competition, winner is the best captain and takes what they want from loser's ship."

The Russian's smile widened. "Okay, I accept your challenge." His facial expression showed nothing but innocence. "I can't wait to see the twisted look on your face when you're begging for mercy."

The rest of the group gulped nervously.

"Kol kol, we meet on my ship tomorrow morning!" Russia waved and disappeared as fast as he came.

"Erm, dude. What did you just drag us into?"

"Shut it you bloody git!"

*The next day*

America tiredly trudged onto the ship following Britain. "Iggyyyyyyy, why did you drag us here so early? It's like 6am!"

"You git! It's twelve o'clock in the afternoon!" He fumed, "and how many times to I have to tell you not to call me that?!"

The American yawned. "No need to be such a priss. Why did you even come anyway? You're only gonna get your ass kicked by Russia."

"Wanker! What makes you think that some Russian low-life can take down the British empire?!" He put his hands on his hips.

"Maybe because he is a big psycho who is holding my brother hostage!" He knew it wasn't the full truth but he still hadn't gotten over the fact that Matthew had joined off his own free will.

He arched one of his ridiculously large eyebrows. "Didn't your brother join Russia's crew voluntarily?"

"Yeah! B-but still! He's my brother and I don't want him around a big psycho like Russia!" He sulked and carried on walking.

Arthur placed a hand on the others shoulder in sympathy. "Hey." Alfred stopped, then turned around and met the others gaze. "Don't worry about it, I'm sure Matthew will be fine."

He didn't reply but after barely a few seconds he burst out laughing. "Ahaha! You thought I was depressed or something! Oh wow, that is so uncool dude!"

"I-I I thought." The Brit stuttered. "Wanker! That's the last time I ever try to comfort you!" He stormed off leaving the American laughing.

When he eventually noticed that Arthur had left, Alfred stopped laughing and climbed the mast. "Okay, everyone listen to the awesome hero! Today you dudes are gonna be doing fightin' 'n' stuff, and I, the hero, will decide who wins! Anyone who disagrees will be declared stupid!"

The majority of people on board gave the 'hero' a rather irritated look and England shouted up "you idiot! Why in god's name would we put you in charge?!"

"Duh, isn't it obvious? Because I'm the hero of course!" He threw his hands up in the air and almost fell whilst doing so. "Besides, it wouldn't be a fair fight with me in it, I think we all know the hero would easily thrash you all!"

"Get your lazy ass down here now you-" he started.

"As much as I may regret saying zis, I agree with Amérique." France interrupted.

Britain turned his attention to France. "What on earth is wrong with you frog? Have you finally lost your bloody mind? He's just trying to get out of competing!"

"Non, think about it Angleterre, if Amérique takes part, he would make zeh fight unfair and we would be guaranteed victory, if he doesn't, sure it's a risk, but it vill only prove your title to be rightfully yours." France attempted to convince the shorter blonde.

He thought for a moment and finally made up his mind. "Alright then. Hey America!"

Said nation looked down. "Yeah dude?"

"You can be our judge! Though we'll need someone from the opposing team to help, so we can assure a fair fight!" The Brit started to think.

"Really? Sweet! Thanks dude!" He also began to think. After a few seconds, he perked up. "I know!" He quickly flipped of the side of the mast and landed on his feet in the middle of the deck.

"You wanker! Are you trying to kill yourself?!" The captain yelled but the American had already ran off. He returned less than a minute later dragging a squirming Canadian along with him.

"A-Alfred! I don't wanna! S-stop it!" Matthew protested as Alfred tried to push him up the ladder.

"Dude c'mon! I get that you're afraid of heights, but seriously, it's not even that high!" He set the Canadian down.

"B-but!" He stuttered.

"No buts!" And after that, Alfred lifted his brother, slung him over his shoulder and climbed the ladder.

After many protests from the younger, they finally reached the top of the mast. "See, it's not so bad..." He gestured downward.

There was not reply from Matthew and when Alfred turned around, he was met with the sight of Canada crouched down and holding onto Mr Kumajirou for dear life, his face, once again, buried in his fur.

The American sighed in annoyance at the sight of his little brother. "Dude! C'mon! You can't be a pirate if you can't go five minutes without hugging your teddy bear!"

Canada stopped rocking for a second and slowly stood up. He looked around, he still looked unsure but somewhat eased. "W-well, I guess it isn't so bad."

Alfred clapped a hand on the other's shoulder (which scared the crap out of him). "See dude? There's nothin' to worry about!"

Down on deck, Britain was growing impatient. "Oi! Now that we have that sorted, what do we do first?!"

Everyone looked towards the two 'judges'. Matthew spoke first. "Hm, well I was thinkin' maybe we could start with-"

Before he could finish his sentence, America beat him to it. "Drinking!"

"Kesesesese! Zeh awesome Prussia will out-awesome all of you unawesome people!" He was quickly silenced with a hit from Hungary's frying pan.

"Um, America-san, is drinking this earry rearry a good idea?" Japan questioned his friend's decision.

"Relax Japan-dude. Besides, I'm in charge so you dudes do what I say." Canada cleared his throat. "Oh, and Mattie too!"

This time, it was Germany who was growing impatient. He sighed. "Can ve just get on viz zis?"

Italy suddenly bubbled up from nowhere. "Relax Germany! After all-ah, we do have all day!"

"Yeah Germany-bro! Don't worry, the hero's gotcha covered!" He pointed to a set of doors. "Now, bring out the booze!"

Then, as if on queue, the doors burst open with Ukraine and Russia pushing a wagon stacked with barrels, Belarus sticking closely to Russia repeating the words 'marry me' over and over.

Russia, ignoring his rather intimidating sister, had a big grin on his face. "Kol kol, I hope you all enjoy yourselves."

Hungary sighed. "Is this really your idea of a competition?"

"I agree with Hungary, you westerners are always drinking!" China agreed.

Austria turned up his nose. "As long as I don't have to go against Germany, I'm fine with the drinking." This made Germany's mood turn slightly darker.

"Hey, you incompetent wanker! Insult one of my crew again and I swear I'll rip that stupid flick right off your head!"

"Okay! Everyone shut up and start drinking!" America yelled before an argument could start.

"Hey bastard! What are the rules?!" Romano shouted up.

"That's a good point." Estonia said, trying to get Latvia to come out from hiding behind him.

"Pft! Zeh awesome Prussia doesn't need rules! Just drink 'till ye can drink no more!" Prussia commanded.

"Yeah dudes! What he said!" Alfred gestured towards Gilbert.

Canada facepalmed behind him. "Alfred, don't you think we should at least add some rules? If not, how do we know who's won?"

Said American thought for a moment. "Hey everyone!" Everyone turned their attention. "I want Iggy's crew on the left, and Russia's on the right."

Everyone obliged except for 'Iggy'. "Wanker! I told you not to call me that!" He was then dragged off by Spain to the left side of the ship.

"Yo, Russia-dude!" Russia looked up at him. "Split the amount of booze in two and put one lot on each side!"

"Kol kol, whatever you say!" Then both him and Ukraine did as try were told.

"'Kay dudes! Here are the rules! Each team has the same amount of beer, whichever team that drinks theirs first will win this round!"

"Hey Estonia! We are like, totally gonna beat you!" Poland called across the deck.

Lithuania spoke before he could carry on. "Poland. That isn't very nice!"

"Shut up-a- and start already!" Romano shouted angrily.

"Okay," Canada said quietly, though loud enough so people could hear him. "On your marks, get set, g-"

"Start drinking!" America finished.

Around two and a half hours later, everyone had drank so much, most had forgotten about the actual competition.

Japan, who had refrained from drinking, was sat reading a book with a passed out china next to him; Britain was randomly yelling at France (who was currently wearing nothing but a rose and trying to convince Matthew to come down); Hungary was half trying to comfort a sick Austria and half trying to kick Prussia off her ankle; Poland was boasting to Estonia about how 'totally awesome' his ponies are; Lithuania was attempting to get Poland to stop showing off; Latvia was still hiding begin Estonia; Spain was chasing a cursing Romano with a battle axe, trying to hug him; Italy was dancing around the ship singing Marukaite Chikyuu; Ukraine was complaining at how her big boobs make her back hurt; Belarus wouldn't take her eyes of her brother, and Russia and Germany were the only ones left drinking.

At the top of the mast, a flushed Canada was practically begging France to put some clothes on, and America was just sat there, annoyed at the fact that he wasn't allowed to drink.

About another forty-five minutes passed and Germany slammed his bottle down, stood up and shouted "fertig!"

As soon as he heard that, America instantly shot up. "Hahah! Victory is ours!"

Germany offered his hand to Russia and greeted him fair play. Russia politely shook it. "It's okay, I'll crush you in the next round."

"Okay dudes, time for the next round! This time, I'll let Mattie explain!" Everyone turned their attention to Alfred - who grabbed Matthew and pushed him forward.

"Okay, this time we have fighting. Everyone has a weapon of their own choice and has to fight someone from the opposing team, first one to fall over is out. When your opponent falls, you find another, last one in wins for their team." Matthew explained.

Most seemed happy with this and grabbed a weapon:

Britain with a sword.

Russia with his magic metal pipe.

Spain with his battle-axe.

China with a wok (he had regained consciousness a while back).

Hungary (of course) had her frying pan.

Japan with his katana.

Germany with a hammer.

Belarus with a simple kitchen knife.

Ukraine with a rake.

Romano with a bucket of tomatoes.

Estonia with a spear.

Lithuania with a shield.

Prussia with a random stick.

Austria with his conductor's baton.

France with a wine bottle.

And Italy with a giant white flag...

"Italy! How do you plan on vinning armed viz a vite flag?!" Germany demanded.

"Easy! I show them my-a- white flag like this-a-" he waved it in front of the blonde's face.

Germany facepalmed and just left the wimpy Italian to it.

"Okay guys, let's start. And please, try not to kill each other..." The Canadian requested rather politely.

"Don't listen to him dudes! Be as wild as ya want!" This received a cheer from most.

Canada slapped a hand over his brother's mouth. "Ugh, just please get into position."

Back to back stood:

Britain & Russia.

China & Hungary.

Lithuania & Ukraine.

France & Estonia.

Prussia & Austria.

Japan & Belarus.

Germany, Italy, Spain and Romano all had to sit out at first due to the lack of people on Russia's side. And Poland decided to be a priss and skip the fighting, while Latvia was hiding in an empty barrel like the little wimp he is.

"Okay, go!" Canada quietly shouted.

Immediately, the whole deck came to life.

France glared at Estonia with his signature rape face and after barely a minute in, Estonia was hiding in a barrel like his friend Latvia.

Britain drew his sword, gaze focused on Russia, an evil glint in his eye. "Hahah, you really think you can take down the British Empire? Well you can bloody well think again. You wa-"

A quick hit and the Brit was down. Canada winced at the thought of the headache he would have in the morning, combined with a hangover - it didn't sound too pleasing.

"Kol, kol. Who's next?" Russia managed to say before being hit right in the head with a hammer. He turned around and gave an innocent smile.

Germany was shocked by the fact that Russia wasn't knocked out, and was taken off guard when he was pinned to the wall, a cold, metal pipe at his neck.

Russia looked at him with a rather intimidating aura surrounding him. "See Germany, I said I would crush you in the next round." And with that, he pressed the pipe harder into his neck, and just when he was about to go for the kill, he was hit around the head and knocked to the floor.

"Germany! Germany! Are-a- you okay?!" Germany looked up to see Italy stood in front of him, red-stained white flag in hand and tears threatening to fall from his chocolate brown eyes (which were actually open for a change).

"I-Italy?!" Germany rasped, clutching his neck. "I-I'm vine. But how?!"

Italy quickly ran over to Germany and pulled him in for a tight hug. "Ah, Germany! I saw Mr Russia with his-a- pipe at your neck! I-a- was so scared! I hit him with my-a- white flag!"

Germany returned the hug. "Danke Italy. I guess your vite flag did come in handy after all." Italy gave a teary laugh.

"Wow Italy." Russia stood up. "Nobody has ever been able to take me down before."

Italy squealed and hid behind Germany. "You dunkoff! You could have killed me!"

Russia gave them a nervous laugh. "Ah sorry about that. No hard feelings?" He offered a hand and Germany shook it hesitantly.

"Guys! This isn't cool! I can't fight a girl!" Lithuania cried as he held his shield up, blocking Ukraine's blows with her rake.

"I'm really sorry, but I must knock you over." She tripped and fell into her opponent, both hitting the deck, Ukraine's big boobs squashed into Lithuania's face.

"I'm sorry." She said and shakily offered to help him up.

Poland, who was currently watching, had burst into a fit of laughter. "Hahah, Liet is totally getting laid!"

On the other side of the ship, Hungary and China were hastily battling with their pans. Both were equally skilled and probably would have been fighting for a lot longer if Prussia hadn't have pushed Austria between the two of them with his stick, resulting in Austria stumbling into china and both landing in a heap on the floor.

Hungary had given a slight girly giggle but was interrupted by Prussia rudely asking "Hey, Hungary! Why don't you ditch that loser and come and join the awesome me in my awesome crew?!"

Her expression instantly fell when she heard Gilbert's voice. She turned around and almost instinctively hit him flat in the face with her pan. "How about you ask me again when you're sober?" She said sweetly then turned, and when she heard a disappointed whine come from the floor, she walked away with a satisfied smile on her face.

Japan dodged each stab Belarus attempted to throw at him with ninja-like skills. Katana in hand he was trying to devise a plan to knock her down without injuring her.

"You oppose brother Russia, therefore, I must exterminate you. Only then will brother love me." She carried on stabbing, but Japan kept dodging.

"Not to be disrespectfur Berarus-chan. But is marrying your brother rearry necessary?" He continued dodging. "I'm sure he roves you arready."

She tripped him up, and forced him down - she held her knife threateningly close to his throat. Japan looked terrified (well, as terrified as Japan can get). "Nobody will stop me from becoming one with brother Russia. I will exterminate anybody who tries to stop us from marrying!"

Japan was down, and he felt great shame for being brought to his knees so quickly. He looked up at his victor and - SPLAT!

"Take that-a- you incest bitch!" Romano cried triumphantly after throwing a tomato at Belarus, causing her to roll off Japan and lie defeated on the floor.

He heard an 'eek' from his target and he burst out laughing but was quickly silenced when he heard Antonio. "Loooooviiii! Mi pequeño tomate! Come and give boss a huuug!"

"Ah, shit." He said to himself and attempted to hide from his former 'boss'.

That plan ultimately failed as when he ran around the corner, he came face to face with Spain dressed in his old armour, holding his battle-axe. He looked as if he was about to speak but Romano quickly shut him up. "Nope, no-a- talking to me when you look-a- stupid."

He attempted to walk away but was glomped at the last moment.

"But Looooviiii!" Spain whined as Romano tried to wriggle his way out of his grasp. He noted that the Spaniard was a lot stronger whilst he was drunk.

He didn't know whether it was his own drunken state or due to Antonio's constant nagging, but either way, he felt as if he should at least hear the bastard out.

He sighed, "uh, what-a- do you want from me now?!"

Spain said nothing, he set Lovino down and slowly started to back him into a corner. "Hey tomato bastard! What're you doing?"

Spain ignored him and continued to back him up until he hit the wall.

It took a moment for him to register that he couldn't escape. He looked into the dark emerald eyes that were Spain's to search for an answer - fear and confusion shown in his own hazel ones. "Spain! Snap-a- out of it! What's-a- wrong with you?!"

No reply.

Lovino raised his arm in order to slap him, but was stopped by a firm hand gripping his wrist. He tried to set himself free but his other wrist was seized - then his hands were tightly held above his head.

By now, he was really panicking - I mean, who wouldn't be in that situation?

"What's the matter mi pequeño tomate? You look scared." Spain finally spoke.

"Unhand me now!" He leaned in closer. "Antonio let me-a- go you b-"

The Spaniard cut him off by roughly slamming his lips onto the other's. A muffled noise came from the Italian before his eyes slid shut and he melted into the kiss.

It only lasted for about a minute, but to him, it seemed like an eternity. Spain pulled back first, panting and smiled at Romano.

The darker brunet looked at the taller from under lidded eyes. "Bastard." He whispered breathlessly and returned the drunken smile.

"Um, dudes, sorry to interrupt your lil make-out session there, but we kinda got a problem here." America shouted down awkwardly.

"You wanker! Let them have their little moment!" Britain yelled at his former colony.

"What do you want you bastard?!" Romano yelled, very deeply flushed.

Spain laughed, now back to his childlike self. "What is it mi amigo?!"

Unlike his usual polite tone, Canada impatiently butted in. "It's Italy and Latvia! We can't find them!"

This caught the italian's attention. "Fratello? What do you mean you can't find him you hockey bastard?!"

Matthew, forgetting his shyness, instantly took the roll of the leader. "I don't know! But I swear I saw a suspicious group of individuals snooping around the ships a while ago."

"Wankers! They better not be stealing my gold!" Britain quickly jumped off Russia's ship and sprinted to his own.

"I'll be the hero and save the innocent!" Alfred yelled in his 'hero voice', grabbed Canada before he could protest and again flipped of the mast - resulting in a scream from the younger.

"Alfred!" He cried before he was dragged off to follow Britain.

"Come on Lovi! Let's go and find little Feli!" He was about to follow the others but realised that Lovino was stomping off in the other direction. "Lovi? Where are you going? The ship is th-"

"To find that potato bastard!" He continued walking.

"Why? Your brother could be in serious trouble right now and all you can think about is blaming Germany?" Spain said, assuming that was what Romano was doing.

He continued walking until he spotted the German. "Hey-a- potato bastard!" Germany looked at him in annoyance. "Get your potato ass here now! Feliciano's been kidnapped!"

It took barely a second for the German to respond. "Vat? But he vas just here."

"Idiotta! Are you slow or something?! Get your-a- ass moving now!" He then ran as fast as he could to Kirkland's ship, Germany and Spain not far behind.

Over on the flying mint, Arthur, Alfred and Matthew had themselves surrounded. "Wankers! How dare you trespass on my ship!"

"Dude, don't make them angry! We just have to wait until the others get here." Alfred tried to calm the green eyed blonde down.

Canada scoffed in irritation. "See, this is what we get for rushing out here without a plan!"

"Hey! You came too!" Alfred protested.

"No, you literally forced me to!" Matthew argued.

"Hahah, will you two calm down? I'll take care of these bloody wankers." The Brit drew his sword.

"Oh shit, he's still drunk!" The two said in sync.

Before they could do anything, Arthur, again with the evil glint in his eye, confidently walked up to one of the thugs, who raised his sword. The captain gave a wicked smirk and impaled him in the chest with his now literally 'bloody' weapon.

He then looked over to the other thugs.

After about five minutes, the trio were surrounded by bloody corpses and not a single scratch on any of them - only Arthur was slightly splattered with the blood of his enemies.

"Tch. Wankers."

Matthew fell to the floor looking sick to his stomach, clutching Mr Kumajirou tightly. Where Alfred was stood there gobsmacked. Not quite sure what to say, he just looked at Arthur speechless.

"Y-you. Y-you. B-but how?!" He tried to speak but was unable to find the words.

Arthur noticed that he was being stared at. "What?" He asked simply.

"THAT WAS COMPLETELY AND TOTALLY AWESOME!" He finally managed to shout.

The Brit gave a smirk, then it was him who scoffed this time. "Well, they don't call me Captain Kirkland for nothing." He then changed the subject.

"Matthew? Are you okay? You look slightly pale." He received a small nod in return.

"Well then, shall we find Italy and Latvia?" He asked.

"Yeah dude! This time I wanna be the hero! Don't go stealing my spotlight!" The American warned then ran off and started to search.

"You wanker! It isn't all about you y'know?!" He chased the 'hero' into the cabin.

Canada looked slightly terrified as he got to his feet and shakily started to follow the others.

He was stopped by an Italian accent. "What the crapola happened here-a-?"

He turned to face Romano.

"Arthur, Arthur happened here." Those were the last words he spoke before collapsing - Spain catching him just in time.

The words "let them go now you wanker" came from the cabin. Romano quickly rushing in, followed by Germany - leaving Spain to carry an unconscious Canada.

When they entered, the sight was horrific. A random tall guy with reddish-brown hair had Italy and Latvia sat on the desk, tied together, back to back. Rope was used across their mouths as a gag to stop them from talking or screaming and the stranger was holding two pistols to their heads.

"Give me your treasures or they die." He said bluntly.

Tears were visibly flowing down the two hostages cheeks and they had obviously been beaten up as they were covered in blood. Everybody stood there, useless, unsure of what to do, pained expressions on their faces.

A minute passed. "I'll say it again, give me your treasures or they die." The unknown man threatened a second time.

Again, everybody just stood there, eyes on the two hostages.

Suddenly, the window behind the desk was violently smashed and a heavy metal pipe came down onto the stranger's head.

"Russia?!" Everybody cried simultaneously.

"Kol, kol. I came to retrieve my shipmate!" He pointed to Latvia.

"My, My Russia, I have to say that was quite an impressive entry." Britain complemented. "But may I ask how you found us?"

Russia smiled. "Lithuania said he couldn't find Latvia so I decided to come and look for him. It looks like I came just in time too."

Britain used his sword to cut the rope binding the two. "Well here he is." He gestured towards the Latvian boy who was currently in tears. "Yes, I'm sure we would be dead pretty soon if you hadn't have shown up. And I am truly grateful for that." He turned towards the other captain. "So. What do you say old chap?" He offered a hand and a smile. "Friends?"

The Russian looked unsure but graciously accepted the handshake and returned the smile. "Of course. Kol, kol. Though I must be getting back. I'll be sure to send your crew back for you." As gently as he could, he scooped up Lithuania and exited with a simple wave, Britain muttering a quick 'goodnight' as he passed.

Italy didn't move, he just sat there sobbing with his head down. Germany walked over to him. "I-Italy?" He kept his head down. "Italy look at me." The German gently tilted Italian's head up by his chin and looked into his eyes. His face was cut and bruised and looked awfully painful.

"Germany? Is it-a- over?" His voice was shaky and quiet and no longer held the bubbly excitement it had just hours before.

"Ja, it's over." The Italian sighed in relief as he allowed himself to relax. Germany picked him up bridal style and hugged him comfortingly. Italy nuzzled his head into his chest in response.

Romano, who was currently watching them from the doorway cast his eyes downward and he felt unusually lonely. Spain seemed to notice this and handed Canada to Alfred before walking in his direction.

"Hola Lovi, what's the matter? We saved Feli, so why so glum?" He asked curiously.

"It's-a- nothing, leave me alone you bastard." He grumbled and turned his head away.

"Come on Lovi, you can tell me." He had no reply.

Spain could tell that something was wrong. He noticed that Romano's body was facing in the direction of his brother and Germany. "Ah, now I get it."

Romano snapped his gaze towards Spain. "What are you talking about you bastard?"

The Spaniard mimicked the German's actions and picked the other Italian up, also bridal style. "Lovi just wants to be cuddled!" He exclaimed childishly.

"Put me down now you bastard!" Lovino squirmed but Antonio kept his hold and carried him outside away from the others.

He smirked. "What about now?"

Lovino's face flushed slightly. "Bastard, shut up and kiss me already."

"And if I don't want to?" He teased.

Obviously, Romano didn't care as he grabbed his collar and pulled the Spaniard into a deep and passionate kiss.

With the sun setting over the ocean waters behind them - it could've been described as a what you could call a perfect moment...

America held his brother on his back after having him dumped on him by Spain. It had been a couple of minutes since he had left carrying Romano. He wondered what they were most likely doing now. The thought 'probably having another make-out session' crossed his mind and he cringed at the thought.

He noticed that the only three other people left in the room were Germany, Italy and Britain. He decided that it was probably a good time to take his brother home before it got too late. "Hey dudes, I'm gonna take this wimp back to Russia, brb!" He broke the silence and started towards the exit. "And get well soon Italy!" He called at the last moment.

He jumped of the ship and started walking along the large dock. "Hey Alfred!" A voice called from behind.

He turned to see Arthur running up to him. "Oh hey iggz! What's up?"

"Nothing, I just thought I'd accompany you on your way to drop Matthew off." He sarcastically put his hands on his hips. "If that's alright with you?"

The American cocked an eyebrow. "Ya sure it's not 'cause your only passengers are probably eating each other's faces off and you followed me 'cause you're bored?"

"Okay, you got me. But seriously, you never know who could be lurking around here, you could easily get yourself killed by another one of those wankers from before."

Alfred rolled his eyes and let out a minor laugh. "Okay mom."

Arthur gave him a small hit across the head, "wanker. I am not your mother."

The other just continued laughing.

A stir came from Matthew. "Al?" He instantly sat up. "Al? What happened?!"

Alfred laughed. "Relax dude, you just fainted. You were too much of a wuss to look at the dead bodies."

Matthew gave a second slap to the American's head and rested his own on his shoulder. He noticed Arthur. "Hey Arthur. How's your head?"

"It's hurts, it's a good job that I'm immortal, had I been human I would've been a gonner for sure." He offered a reassuring smile. "You feeling any better?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little queasy. Though I still can't believe you took down all of those thugs by yourself - drunk and a head injury. That's pretty impressive, and also worrying." Both gave a small laugh before Alfred carried Matthew onto Russia's ship.

He spotted France. "Hey Francy pants!" He called.

France walked over to the duo. "Qui Amérique?"

"Nice to see you found your pants! Ah, will ya do me a favour and take this lump to bed for me?" He gestured to said 'lump' on his back.

"But of course, anything for mon petit Mathieu." With that, he lifted Matthew off Alfred's back (despite him being awake) and carried him like a baby towards the bedroom.

"Thanks a bunch dude! And try not to rape him!" He waved goodbye to his brother, sighed and jumped off deck.

"I would've though you'd stayed for a while longer that that." The Brit simply stated.

The American yawned. "Nah, I'm not in the mood right now, I think I'm just gonna crash early."

Arthur just nodded and started walking. It was now dark, and the only light that was visible was from the moon, stars and the few ships that were docked up.

The two continued to walk in silence, they walked the remainder of the way like that. Although it was Arthur who broke it first. "Hey Alfred."

"Yeah dude?" He said as he hopped on deck.

"Since there's nothing else to do. Do you fancy a drink?" The shorter of the two offered.

Alfred looked at him. "No thanks dude, like I said, I'm gonna crash early... Maybe another time?"

"Well it's not like I'm bothered - but sure, if you want." He met the other's gaze.

Alfred averted his eyes and cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Yes, remember we're leaving in two days. So make sure you say goodbye to Matthew before then." He got barely a nod in response. "Uh, goodnight then?"

Alfred managed a smile, "yeah, night dude." He then hurried over to his room and said nothing more.

A/N - this took AAAAAGES to write, I hope you liked it and feel free to let us know what you think. (Please - no hate. Though constructive criticism is welcome!)

That's all! Byeeeeee °3°

~Lu

Over on Russia's ship Japan was desperately trying to get his drunken shipmates to return to their own ship - though that was not going very well seeing as most were either drinking or fighting. He decided that there was no getting through to them so instead of trying, he pulled out a bottle of rum and joined in with the fun. This of course led to a disastrous outcome...

However, on the flying mint, it was a different story. Captain Kirkland was sat on deck watching the waves and drinking the night away; America had, for some unknown reason, locked himself in his room; Germany was carefully tending to a hurt Italy, and Spain and Romano...

Let's just say that 'stuff' was taking place...


	4. Chapter 4

A\N: It's not as long as the last chapter and I personally thought it could of been better but Lu said otherwise, I hope you enjoy.

Cold: that's what he felt. The Brit was encased in a parcel of powdered snow and showed no sign of escaping from his icy enclosure. From above his red coat looked like a stain of blood on the outstretch of snow. It blemished the ground, like the smudge that a soft pencil would give to a fresh piece of paper. It was just hours before, Britain, who did not have the slightest idea of where he was, was stumbling aimlessly though the thick layers of white snow. Perhaps this was why he wasn't moving.  
Even the thought of the cold was enough to make him want to stop. The feeling of icy needles pricking his fingers was still fresh in his mind and the skin of his nose and ears seemed to be pulled painfully taunt. Around him, the wind howled like the Italian brothers when they had run out of pasta. 'Wait,' his thoughts refocused, 'the Italian Idiots!'. It was at this moment the tingle of the snow vanished; he was on his own but where was his crew?

Elsewhere, Poland was in a rundown forest. At first glance, it was clearly tropical huge trees, strange-looking flowers and vines clinging to anything that showed life. However, from Poland's point of view, which was curled up in a tight ball, things looked very different. Up above, sunlight only just seemed to leak through the tree line. The flowers squinted towards the light. It was the vines that scared the Pole most. They were snake-like and seemed to be edging ever closer.  
"Argh!" he cried in frustration, "It will be totally cool!, Yeah, the great Poland will be totally fine." he reassured himself. In his agitation, Poland could hardly hear the sniggering coming from the near by bushes, but if he was honest with himself, Poland would have told himself he was mad. It was when Poland admitted this out-loud the laughter grew louder so he went to investigate...

"German-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" A shaky voice called, "Help-a- me out ple-", A branch snapped slightly and the voice became more panicked, "Germany, Germany, Germany! I'm-a-sorry!". The voice was finally replied with a gruff sigh followed by: "I'm coming, you dunkoff."  
Just minutes before, Germany and Italy were standing on the cliffs edge in an attempt to navigate the strange island. With no prevail the German began to walk away and Italy, unsurprisingly, stayed to look at the vast views this spot had to offer. As Italy now knows, cliff edges aren't the safest places to stand, much like The Flying Mint's plank. Currently, the poor Italian was hanging onto a dead branch for dear life while Germany lowered a plank of dead wood over the cliff edge.  
It took a while to get Italy back on his two feet, but when he did he was incredible grateful as the burly German was about to find out. "Germany! Grazie!" he cried before- "mwah!" Italy kissed Ludwig square on the lips. It was clear: Germany and Italy have a very... touchy-feely relationship? (At least the Italian side is). While Italy was snuggle up to his chest, Germany was struggling to process what had just happened. Love. Care. Affection. How could he sort these in a logical way? Did he couple 'care' and 'affection' together, or, or, or? He didn't know. No... He didn't understand. A blush was creeping its way onto Germany's face and he knew it. This is why his cheeks were growing rosier, darker, redder. "arghhhh!" They were falling: The remainder of the cliff had crumbled underneath them.

Now it was clear. There was something majorly wrong with this island: different climates, noises that go bump in the night and death traps around every corner... What was wrong with this place? Well as Spain and Romano were about to find out, this phenomenon was partly to do with a certain self-proclaimed country. That's right; "I'm a country! I'm a country!" rang through the underground hide out like the beat of a drum. This made Spaniard the shiver. He had been in a similar situation a few years before he had joined Kirkland's crew; locked in a dungeon, which at the time was his own quarters, with the little monster running around as he was a crazed beast. naturally the kind-hearted Spain took the kid aboard but he had no idea how much work it would take to care for Sealand. 'Sealand'- he had said it. It sent a nervous feeling down his spine after all would the small country not want revenge? 'No,' thought to himself, he wouldn't think about that. Over in the other corner of the dungeon Romano was busy drawing in the thin layer of dust on the stone floor. He had never been good at drawing; not like his brother and he reminded hisself constantly. However, in Roma's mind he could speak to his drawings. No one else knew what they were saying but he, he could pour all his thoughts into a sketchy drawing and they were safe.  
He was currently engraving various swirls of confusion, hearts and a pair of hands that were interlocked into the dusty debris. Did Spain remember? He didn't know. He wasn't sure if he wanted his Spanish friend too. This war had been raging on in his head until he could stand it no longer "Bastardo," the Italian whispered softly, he was not friends with Spain. Alas, curiosity got the better of him. "So Tomato Bastard do you remember anything about our meeting with Russia?" Romano shifted uncomfortably: this was the moment of truth...  
"Ehh? Spain?"  
"Oh sorry Lovi. What was that?"  
"Don't call me that!"  
Romano stopped for a moment. 'When was the last time Spain had been so caught up in something that he ignored me?' It didn't happen often, only when the Spaniard was in deep thought. For such a go-lucky guy this was incredibly rare.  
"Haha!" Both the captured countries looked up to see the young blonde leading Italy, honestly this was not surprise to then but when they saw the disfunctioning German, this was a shock. His older brother perhaps would have been expected, Germany though was a country of strategy and logic.  
"Because I'm such a nice country I'll give you better living conditions later, I'm very busy you see. Of course being such big countries of course yo will, silly me!" With that Sealand skipped of like his usual cheery self.  
"So how-a-did you get caught brother?" An almost sly Lovino asked.  
"Well I don't really Know. I think I-a- got to second base; then the cliff top broke and we fell... The floor opened and Germany has been in this state ever since," Italy replied, happily holding the shellshocked Germany's hand. Romano just nodded: he was staring at Spain whose green eyes followed where Sealand had skipped off to.  
"Mi amigos, we need to get out of here!"  
"But what about Germany?" Both Italians asked.

"Hey Mr Sweden!" Sealand called after the Scandinavian, " I caught the Kirkland Crew! I bet you are amazed right? Now let me tell you how I did it."  
In a flash the Swede's face went from calm and collected to a expression that would have scared his 'wife'. Speaking of which Finland was terrified as was Iceland who was the first to comment on the matter, "Wha! You brought Pirates to our island?!"  
"It's okay little brother, just call me big brother and I'll protect you." Norway chimed behind Ice.  
"My island, you gave it me for Christmas last year remember?" Sealand interjected and smiled at them innocently not knowing the whole truth.  
"Well ja," Finland agreed. After Russia had dumped the kid on them, the Nordics were so busy they pretty much forgot about him- in order not to disappoint they gave Sealand part of there island. Finland smiled to himself. He loved this island. There was snow to test his carriage; mountains for take off and a forest for resources. Not to mention the beach. 'Happy place Finny' he thought to himself. While Finland was relaxed the group had moved to the 'dungeon' that was official used as storage.  
Sweden's sharp blue eyes were attempting to return the equally intimidating gaze of Germany while Iceland attempted to scare the Italians. Norway stood behind him- this is probably what they were really scared of... On the other hand Finland attempted to ignore the glaring competition and tried to befriend the friendly looking Spain...

After a good half an hour of apologising the group had reached a point were they could at least trust each other. It turned out that all Sealand wanted was recognition.  
"So my little amigo, were can we find the Flying Mint?" Spain asked politely as possible.  
Sealand glared daggers him. "It's at the beach you wanker!"  
Spain cringed, Peter was obviously related to the captain.

The beach was golden. The sun shone warmly it would have been a great place for a holiday if it was not for... "Suck it losers! You'll never be as awesome as the awesome Prussia!" Prussia jumped into the sea followed by: "Hell, you're not even a country! I am the hero!" There went America.  
On the beach was Japan, China, Lithuania and a sun burnt Poland.  
"It's been totally amazing right?! I found these three totally terrified in the woods!" Poland declared referring to Lithuania Japan and China.  
"No you were panicking in the woods-aru- you just happens to notice Lithuania," replied a suspiciously relaxed China.  
"Zis is true,"France replied admiring Denmark. "We found zeese loud mouths on the beech, though Artie is yet to show."  
" Since when is Britain 'Arite' " asked Sealand only to be harassed by France.  
"Ohohoh, 'ow cute, you must be his brother, he must 'ave told you about me. Non? Call me Uncle Francy Pants!"  
America then came running from the water; his back facing the shallow undergrowth if the forest. "Hey dudes! You guys talking about Iggz? I'm sure the old dude will be fine!"  
It was then to hands clamped the the yanks shoulder.  
"He's old is he? He'll be fine will he?" A thick British accent rang.  
Though slightly scared "Told ya'" America whispered. The Brit's fine uniform was torn to sheds and numerous twigs clung to his hair. His nose was still blue; "I'm so sorry," muttered Finland. Staring at Britain's state Sweden could only nod in agreement.

That evening as per usual most of the Mint's passengers were drunk- so were the Nordics for that matter.  
Captain Kirkland in particular was pretty emotional. " Why would you leave me!" He would cry every so often.  
Inside the ship Spain and Romano were tucked underneath their covers.  
"So what's been bothering you today?" Lovino asked from the top bunk.  
"Eh, it was nothing,"  
"Tell me..."  
"Fine, that little niño?"  
"Yeah get-a- on with it."  
"Before I lost to Kirkland, I lost to Russia."  
"So?"  
"He demanded that I handed the little guy over.  
"Why would he want that idiota to be part of his crew?"  
"He had technology from Japan- I bet that's how he scattered us across the island"  
"That doesn't explain why you haven't been your usual jerk self!"  
"I was getting to that. Sealand was always outshines by his brother like you, so I wanted to help him sì?"  
Romano didn't know how to reply, "buona notte, you jerk-bastard!"  
"Beunos noches,"

After a rather strange adventure the crew managed to board the ship the next day and Britain had regained his posture, yet he failed to notice stowaway.

A/N: Thanks for reading, constructive criticism is welcome, but no hate please. We have a new writer for the next chapter so this could be interesting.  
~TheAnimeAmigos 


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:**

 **Okay, guys this is my first time helping Lucinda and Emma out with the fanfiction and I've never wrote one before so take it easy on me as it is highly likely to be crap. I will now tell you a bit about me: my name is Anna, I am the same age vas Emma and a year older than Lucinda and I am half Danish (yes, I am loud, obnoxious and have blonde hair and blue eyes). Here we go!**

Everything was peaceful on-board The Flying Mint; America was sound asleep, Germany slumbered next to a *cough* naked *cough* Italy, who he was unaware of; Britain had passed out on his desk after drinking a bit too much rum, Prussia was busy quietly being zhe awesome him, and Spain and Romano were doing something I best not mention if I treasure my life. Everything was quiet on The Flying Mint except for the breathy sobs coming from the new looking crate, which was made from some form of jungle tree. The crate was quite big; you could fit a grown male in there (uncomfortably) and still have room for a tiny bit of food and water. This was exactly what Sealand had done…

At last dawn came, colouring the sky with an array of pinks and reds, no one awoke to find the crate. However, when the sky was more of an azure colour the countries began to wake up. First being: Britain, Germany (not being shocked by the naked man in his bed (it happened on a regular basis)), Japan, Poland, Lithuania, Spain – who then sat in bed for a while-, and about 30 minutes later: Italy, Romano, France, America and Prussia woke up all being greeted by some form of scolding whether it be Briatain yelling "You're late for breakfast you American wanker!" Germany half-heartedly saying "Please don't sneak into my bed Feli, or at least wear hose…" ( **A/N Trousers in German)** or even "Don't sleep so long, Lovi, I'm not able to see those beautiful eyes of yours when you sleep." To which our precious little `Lovi` replied, blushing a furious red I may mention, "Fuck off you tomato bastard-a!"

Eventually all of the countries were on deck and had noticed the odd crate, which was still emitting sobbing sounds. "Dudes, one of us should totally open that box! I vote Britain-dude!" America roared "Why me! Why not you? You are the hero are you not?" Arthur questioned. "Because, dude, A. I am being the hero by letting someone else be able to take credit for such an awesome deed and B. you`re the captain!" Most of the others nodded in agreement, so the captain walked hesitantly up to the crate to see a note pinned with a sharp dagger to the top of the crate reading:

Dear jerks,

Iceland wanted to come with you so I put him in this crate.

Look after him!

-Sealand

Meanwhile back on the Nordics Island: all of the Nordics were beginning to question where Iceland had gotten to, all of them except for Sealand. "Sealand, do you know where Iceland is?" Sweden questioned "N-no," Sealand whimpered "No? Are you sure?" Sweden asked calmly "P-positive!" "SEALAND," Denmark shouted in a louder than usual voice "Tell us what you know right now!" "Okay, okay" Sealand resigned "I sent him away in a crate on The Flying Mint…" Cries of "You what!" and "Why?" were heard all around the small country "I thought he wanted to go with them!" "Well you thought wrong," said Denmark "Come on, Norway, we`ll go and get him." Norway nodded in agreement with his expressionless face "You guys sure you want to go there`s going to be a storm soon," said Finland "we`ll be fine" Denmark all but shouted and off they went.

 **A/N: Sorry it`s pretty short! I hope you guys like it and hopefully I`ll write for you again!**


	6. Chapter 6

A/N - Lu here. Sorry for taking so long but it is a rather long chapter (not as long as my last one but it'll have to do). I apologise if the ending sounds rushed as I wrote it late at night. Anyway, enough of my rambling and I hope you enjoy. (Btw, contains DenNor! ^3^)

Norway grumbled to himself as he stood at the wheel of the ship. "Hey Norge, look Norge!" A cheerful and carefree voice came from behind him. It was none other than Denmark, who just happened to be prancing about the deck like the big kid he was.

'How is he so happy?' The Norwegian thought to himself, they were supposed to be focusing on finding Emil and he was definitely NOT helping.

Ignoring the rather irritating man behind him, he gave an annoyed sigh and looked out at the waves. The salty breeze was somewhat calming and reminded him of his time as a Viking - though he was distracted from his thoughts when he felt two muscular arms slowly snake their way around his waist.

"What are you doing?" He asked bluntly in his usual monotonous voice.

"You were ignoring me." Mathias pouted childishly and let his chin rest upon the others' shoulder.

"What are you? A six year old? If you want to make yourself useful - go and make dinner or something." He attempted to shrug the heavy weight off his shoulder.

Denmark only tightened his grip. "But Nooooorge-" BAM! With one quick elbow to the ribs, Denmark had stumbled back and, quite literally, hit the deck. "What was-"

"Shut up whining and start making dinner." He ordered simply and turned his attention back towards the wheel.

Denmark frowned and started to trudge his way to the kitchen. Norway rolled his eyes, quietly muttering the words 'stupid Dane' whilst doing so.

*A few hours later*

The sky was dark, rain fell heavily and a cold, icy wind rocked the ship amongst the navy waves. A storm was approaching.

Norway gripped the wheel tightly, clothes drenched with rainwater and blonde hair matted to his forehead. He shivered as he attempted to steer the ship towards a nearby island. The wind was strong and he swayed in rhythm with the ship.

He heard footsteps on the deck and he gave a quick glance to see Denmark stumbling towards him. "Idiot, get below deck." He said sternly.

"No way, you-" a flash of lightning.

"Get below deck now you incompetent Dane!" Lukas impatiently cut him off just as a strong gust of wind blew and made Mathias fall flat on his face.

"But-" still on the floor, Denmark looked up. The wind was getting stronger and he watched as Norway suddenly lost grip on the wheel. Desperately trying to regain balance, he staggered backwards, hit the side of the ship and fell head first into the water.

"Norge!" Mathias screamed. Without thinking, he jumped to his feet and dived in after Lukas.

Lukas struggled as he was carelessly thrown about by the freezing waves that surrounded him. Violently thrashing his arms and legs about, he managed to break the surface. "Denmark!" He yelled breathlessly before being overpowered and dragged down into the deep, murky depths.

He sank helplessly as exhaustion began to take over him. Head beginning to hurt, he caught the slight glimpse of a silhouette swimming towards him and with the last of his strength, he reached out towards it, then blacked out.

*Later that night*

Somewhere in a cave, hidden amongst the cliffs, a small fire crackled. The storm had passed and a light rain could be heard outside.

Completely drained, Denmark sat slumped against the stone wall of the cave, Norway lay sound asleep cuddled up against him. Both wearing only their underwear while their clothes dried by the heat of the fire.

The Dane sat and stared into the flickering flames whilst he recalled what had happened over the past few hours. From what he remembered, there was a storm and Lukas had fallen overboard, he'd jumped in after, swam to this island carrying the other on his back, found this cave and started a fire. If he had to be honest, he had no idea how he managed it all - he was just grateful for the fact that both Lukas and him were alive.

He looked down at the blonde who had his head rested on his stomach. Despite how tired he was, Mathias refused to sleep until Lukas awoke. The feeling of dread washed over him every time he recalled the memory of searching for him, he'd only found him from his name being called.

Lost in his own thoughts, Denmark jumped slightly when Norway stirred. He smiled slightly, admiring the younger's icy features. Without thinking, he let his hand wander softly over the face below him, gently brushing away the few strands of platinum that lingered on closed eyelids.

His large and clumsy hand moved slowly down ghostly pale skin, brushing almost hesitantly and cradling the Norwegian's cheek. He looked back up just in time to see his eyelids slide open revealing two tired orbs.

Violet gaze met baby blue and giving a split second for Norway to recognise who it was - Denmark was pinned to the cave wall by a firm grip around his throat, Norway straddling his hips."You have ten seconds to explain where we are and why we're both half-naked."

Denmark choked from the tightness and attempted to grab at his captor's wrist. Norway realised that he couldn't breathe and loosened his grip but stayed in the same position, eyes locked with Denmark's with a threatening stare.

"What? Don't you remember what happened?" Norway gave a minor confused look. "Y'know, there was a storm, you fell overboard and I saved you?"

A few seconds and realisation dawned on Lukas as memories of almost drowning came flooding back to him. He quickly shot up and picked up his damp clothes.

Denmark also stood up. "Wha- Norge what're you doing"

"Finding Emil." Came the blunt reply.

"What? Norge, c'mon - you're tired and it's pitch black out there." Denmark tried to reason.

"I don't care, I'm finding my little brother."

"How? We don't even have a ship."

Norway froze. They didn't have a ship? How were they supposed to get off the island without a ship?

A few seconds passed and neither of them said anything. Denmark somehow sensed the other's distress, held Norway's wrists delicately and bent down slightly, attempting to look the other in the eye. "Norge please. At least wait until morning when we're not both exhausted. Then we can find a way outta here."

Lukas kept quiet while his stubborn gaze remained fixed on the floor. Just as Mathias was about to let go, the shorter quietly muttered the word "fine" as he gave in.

Hearing this, Denmark perked up. "Yay! Sleepy times with Norge!" He then dragged the struggling Norwegian back to the back of the cave and into a tight hug.

Lukas was far too tired to break free of the Danes grasp, so instead he allowed himself to be held.

"Love you Norge." Came from the other who yawned and buried his face in the blonde mop of hair that was Norway's.

"You're annoying." Was his soft reply as he rested his head on Denmark's warm chest before quickly falling back into a peaceful slumber, soothed by the other's heartbeat.

Mathias gave a satisfied smile, wrapped his arms protectively around his friend and soon joined him in a well deserved rest.

*on the Flying Mint*

After a long day of being pestered by the other passengers on board, Iceland finally got a moment to himself. He groaned and let his head drop and hit the table in front of him with a loud thud. "What a day" he mumbled and rubbed his eyes tiredly.

A few feat away, Romano was internally debating whether or not he should go over and say something to the Icelandic boy. It wasn't like he was worried or anything, no of course not. The kid just looked as if he'd had a rough day is all.

After a few minutes of watching from afar, Romano finally settled with a casual approach. He looked around the dimly lit room, it was empty except for Poland and Lithuania who lay sound asleep curled up on one of the chairs - the others were probably scattered across the ship, drunk off their asses.

"Hey liquorice-bastard." So much for casual. "What's-a- up?" He pulled up a chair and sat beside the white haired nation.

The younger nation seemed rather confused by the other's presence, this was Romano right? "Er, hi Romano?"

An awkward silence.

"So when's that bastard of a brother of yours coming to get you?" He asked, trying to make conversation.

"Eh? Norway? I dunno... Er, Romano?" He said sheepishly.

Romano replied with a slight "hm?"

"Er, did Spain ditch you for Prussia or something?" He asked with an awkwardly fake smile.

Romano's face crossed with a slight redness. The Icelandic had sussed him out already. "Wha? N-no! That bastard just gets annoying sometimes!" He stuttered.

Emil cocked an eyebrow and gave him an 'if you say so' look.

Lovino's embarrassment quickly began to fade. "Whatever, do you want a drink or not?" He offered him a bottle which he hesitantly took.

Iceland held the bottle rather timidly, almost as if afraid of it. He knew his brother would most likely kill him if he happened to find out he'd been drinking. Romano had already downed half of his beverage and noticed that the other hadn't even started. "What? Don't-a- tell me you don't drink."

Emil looked from the bottle, to the older Italian and back to the bottle again. It'd been a long day and he didn't give a damn what his brother thought. He tsked. "Of course I do." He then proceeded to awkwardly sip from the bottle. After all, one drink wouldn't hurt him.

Hours passed and after many drinks later, the two newly established friends were completely hammered and giggling like a couple of schoolgirls...

Next door, China sat with a bored expression on his face. He watched as Spain, Prussia and Italy danced around in a circle singing. Japan, one of his very few friends, had gone to bed; he wasn't exactly best friends with Germany, so he decided not to bother as he was drunk anyway; he knew Poland and Lithuania were asleep; Romano and Iceland could be heard giggling through the wall and hell knows where England, America and France were.

He decided that he might as well get some sleep as there was a long day ahead of them. They still had to resolve the whole Iceland situation after all. He got up, and without another word, walked silently to his room.

Up on deck, America was lay on the cold, damp floor staring up at the sky, seemingly deep in thought. He'd been there for a while now and the cool, night air was starting to make him shiver.

He remained, taking in the atmosphere around him: the soft ocean waves that bobbed the ship beneath him; the icy breeze that blew straight through him; the pitch black darkness of the night sky; the bright, shimmering stars that reminded him of the ones on his flag, and the stillness and silence that left him alone with his thoughts.

He enjoyed times like this, it made him forget his love of the summer sunshine and relax, to take a break from his usually hyped self. 'Geez' he thought to himself, the thought 'I'm starting to sound like Arthur' crossed his mind and he wondered whether or not he was becoming an old man like said Brit.

Meanwhile, France was watching the young nation from behind a stack of crates. He was somewhat surprised that Alfred was even capable of being quiet for this long and why on earth he was lay on the floor remained a mystery to him.

The Frenchman wondered whether or not he should leave the boy be but spotted a certain stubborn captain make his way over to the American he was watching. This caught his curiosity and he decided to stay and watch for a while, the thought 'this could be interesting' crossing his mind.

Alfred was about to get up when he heard bold footsteps clicking on deck nearby and within a matter of seconds, he was staring up at two lime-green eyes."Heyyyy Artie!" The American sang and Arthur, internally and briefly, cringed at the nickname.

He looked down with a curious look on his face, arms crossed and one eyebrow arched. "What the bloody hell are you doing lay outside in the cold, in the middle of the night?"

"Star gazin'" was the reply.

"Oh really?" The Brit smiled.

"Yup!" The American sat up, eyes still locked with the older nation's.

"Why? Aren't you cold out here? It's late autumn and we're in North Europe." There was a scolding hidden somewhere within his tone.

"No way dude! I'm a hero and heroes don't get cold!" He shivered shortly after this.

"Idiot, put a coat on next time." Alfred didn't reply so Arthur simply lay down next to him and looked back up at the sky like Alfred had been doing just minutes before. "So what's so good about this stargazing?" He attempted to start a conversation off. Alfred gave a slightly confused look to which he countered with one of his 'don't question it' stares.

The American smiled and resumed his previous position by lying beside Arthur. "I dunno dude, I guess I've just always enjoyed looking at the stars. Plus I'm an awesome astronomer!"

The Brit thought for a moment. "Hm, do you know any constellations?"

He laughed nervously. "Not really, I never actually bothered to learn any."

"Ignorant git." He mumbled. "And you call yourself an astronomer."

Alfred pouted slightly at this. "Oh yeah dude. If you're such an expert, why don't you tell what you know?"

"If you insist, then I will." He pointed to a particularly large star. "When you were little, you claimed that star to be yours and said that one day you were going to fly to it." He chuckled at the memory.

Alfred went slightly red-faced at the mention of his childhood and how Arthur still remembered such a small thing. "Bold move, Kirkland." He muttered under his breath.

Arthur turned his head to look at the blushing younger country and started laughing. This earned him a flick to the forehead and a "shut up" grumbled from Alfred.

"Ah, you were such a cute child. What ever happened?" He smirked innocently.

"Stop it dude, you're starting to sound like Norway." The American rolled his eyes.

He decided to change the subject. "Speaking of Norway, I hope he arrives here soon, I don't fancy going back to that bloody death trap of an island to drop poor Iceland off."

"Yeah dude, where are we going next? I'm curious." He turned his head to look at Arthur who had gone back to watching stars.

"We're stopping off at England for supplies, then if nobody has collected Iceland, we'll take him home."

America nodded. "Then what?"

"Hmm, I don't really know. There's not exactly any new land to be discovered. Maybe raid a few ships? I don't know."

"Dude, we should totally go to my place for an awesome party!"

The older blonde smiled at this. "You know, that doesn't actually sound like a bad idea. Maybe we should."

Alfred sat up and give his best attempt at puppy-dog eyes. "Pleeeease Artie?"

The Brit mimicked the American and sat up. "Alright, fine. But don't call me-"

He was cut off with a bone-crushing hug. "Yess! Thanks Iggy!"

Arthur's face went a deep crimson at the others actions. "Idiot, get off me. You're worse than Italy!"

A sudden series of bangs and crashes came from some nearby crates followed by a distressed "Merde" being cursed from beneath the rubble.

France rubbed his head (and his fabulous locks) still grumbling and swearing to himself. He looked up to find America laughing hysterically and England with his arms crossed, an angry look painted on his already red face. The Frenchman gulped nervously...

*the next morning*

It was early in the day and the sun had risen about an hour before, Finland stood at the docks fidgeting nervously. Denmark and Norway had only been gone for a little over a day but the storm the night before left him with a feeling of unease.

Questions such as 'what if they're lost?', 'What if they've been shipwrecked?' And 'what if they're hurt?' Flashed through his mind almost as fast as the lightning through the sky the night before.

He grit his teeth to prevent tears from falling and shook slightly, paranoia slowly getting the best of him. He knew he was probably overreacting but made up his mind to look for them. He turned to set up his sleigh but came face to face with a certain Swede.

He laughed nervously, purposely avoiding eye contact. "Hahah, good morning Sve."

"Y' look w'rried." Was the stoic reply.

With that, the Finn dropped the facade. He knew that no matter how unreadable Berwald was, he always seemed to understand others perfectly.

He sighed, casting his vision downward. "Ja."

"Th'n we should find th'm." The Swede said, pretty much reading the other's thoughts.

Tino looked up, slightly confused at first, but then gave one of his bright and charming smiles when he realised Berwald had been worrying just as much as he had. "Ja, I'll get the sleigh!" Was the last thing he said before darting off in another direction.

"Sealand!" A voice rang as it rushed into the house.

"Yes?!" A high pitched British accent followed as the blonde poked his head around the corner of the doorframe.

Finland was rushing around, filling his Santa sack. "Mr Sweden and I are going to look for the others so you-"

"Wait, does that mean I'm in charge of the island?" He interrupted.

"Ja, but only until we get back."

By this point, Peter had already skipped off chanting "hahah! I'm in charge of the island!"

Finland both smiled at the child's innocence and sighed at his ignorance before remembering his mission and dashing to his sleigh.

*Denmark and Norway*

Lukas' head was pounding due to the events of the night before. He rubbed his temples and frowned at the lack of painkillers before buttoning up his shirt. He was in a sour mood and he decided he would take it out on Denmark.

He approached the sleeping Dane and gave him a powerful kick to the stomach. "Wake up." He demanded.

Mathias instantly jolted awake before retreating back into a ball on the floor, cries and whimpers escaping his lips.

"What was that for?" He whined.

The Norwegian looked down at the Dane with his arms crossed. "You wouldn't wake up."

He stood up clutching his gut. "You're cruel."

"You're loud."

Lukas left the cave, probably in search of breakfast and Mathias pouted slightly before beginning to get dressed.

When he'd finished, he noticed a light gold object, half covered in sand near where Lukas' clothes previously were. He bent down to pick it up and he dusted it off. He recognised it as the cross Lukas had worn ever since he could remember and wondered why he'd left it behind.

Mathias then remembered freeing it from Lukas' hair when he'd left his clothes to dry. Lukas had no idea and probably thought he'd lost it - the Dane darted after him, hoping to change that thought.

Lukas was currently stood in the middle of a river, shirt sleeves and trousers rolled up, shoes and socks cast to the side. He dived downward, expertly gripping hold of a particularly large fish.

He stood up and shook his head, trying to flip his fringe out of his face. He cursed at the loss of his hair pin and started to make his way towards the bank, before: "Nooooooorge!"

Denmark had scampered over to him and knocked them both flying backwards into the river, Denmark's weight crushing him and the fish escaping his grasp.

"Idiot, get off me." Lukas demanded as he pushed up against the heavy blonde's chest.

Denmark pulled back slightly, still trapping the smaller and a giant grin covering his features. Faces inches apart, he took the hair pin and wedged it in the Norwegian's hair on the left side of his head. Gently brushing away the few remaining strands of fringe, he traced the edge of the Norwegian's jaw downward to his chin.

He paused for a moment and looked up at the other's frozen and confused expression in adoration before pulling away completely.

Lukas continued staring for a couple of seconds more until he eventually snapped back to reality and tore his gaze away. "Idiot, I'm soaked and you lost our breakfast."

Denmark grinned again and held up two large fish. "On the contrary min lille Norge."

Norway rolled his eyes.

*on the Flying Mint*

"Fratello?" Italy poked his brother in the shoulder.

Romano, who was currently stood on deck with Iceland, turned to face the younger. "What?!"

Feliciano spoke timidly. "Why is it that you hate me calling you 'big bro' when Norway is always trying to get Iceland to say it?"

Emil, who was still recovering from a hangover, flushed slightly and was grateful when Germany strolled up to them, catching both Italies attention.

"Germany!" Sang north.

"Damn potato bastard." Growled south before storming off in the direction of Spain and Prussia.

"Hey Toni, it's your unawesome boyfriend." Gilbert gestured to Lovino.

Antonio laughed. "Sí, buenos días Lovino!"

Romano buried his face into the Spaniard's chest. "Save me from the potato bastards" he begged.

The lively brunet only chuckled. "Sí Lovi, I'll be your hero."

America rudely butted in. "No way dudes, I'm the only hero on this ship!"

"Oh shut it!" The Brit behind him tried to get him to cool it.

"Quoi Amérique, you should try and be quiet more often." France cut in.

"No way Francy pants! Listen to me in my awesome hero voice!"

"Be quiet you wankers!"

Germany sighed in annoyance and decided not to engage for once. "Good morning Italy, Iceland." He nodded in greeting to which the Scandinavian boy returned.

"Morning Germany!" Italy greeted with a small peck to the cheek which made Iceland question how he could show affection so publicly.

He decided to leave the two alone and find Lithuania or something. He seemed like a somewhat normal guy.

He walked away to search for the Baltic when: "good morning Icerand-kun." He turned to see Japan.

He paused for a moment too long. "Y-yeah, good morning" he stuttered awkwardly - after all, he wasn't a very social person.

"I entrust you srept well?" The Icelandic nodded. "I do aporogise for the rudeness of my shipmates - they can be a rittle.. Overbearing at times."

Emil smiled at this, he could relate exactly. He had a feeling that living with these people was a lot similar to living with the Nordics in some way. They could also be overbearing at times and at this he felt that him and Japan could be good friends. "It's cool," he smiled.

*Denmark and Norway*

The two stranded Nordics had just finished breakfast and were on the beach. They'd used various rocks and sticks to spell out the letters 'S.O.S' on the sand.

Lukas was sat on the sand, lost in thought. He was somewhat concerned over the lack of magical creatures on the island. He'd been up and about all morning and had not seen so much as a single fairy. He wondered where they all were and just hoped that nothing bad had happened.

"Hey Norge, whatcha thinkin' 'bout?" Mathias asked as he sat down beside him.

Norway was about to tell him but remembered that the obnoxious Dane didn't believe in magic. He shook his head, dismissing the question.

"Wanna play a game?" Denmark asked with a bored expression on his face. Lukas shrugged. "Okay! Truth or dare?"

Lukas rolled his eyes at such a childish choice of game but decided to cooperate anyway, not letting boredom get the best of him. "Truth." He decided to play it safe.

"Okay! Erm - Vikings or Santa Clause?" Mathias struggled for ideas.

Lukas sighed at the failed attempt of a question. "Santa Clause."

"You're only saying that because of Tino" he pouted. "Your turn!"

"Truth or dare?" He asked flatly.

"Dare!"

"I dare you to shut up for an hour."

The Dane went quiet. "Pass!"

Lukas thought for a moment before a light smirk crossed his face and made Denmark turn nervous. "I dare you to go skinny dipping in that rock pool." He gestured towards a nearby rock pool filled with many crabs.

Denmark's face paled. "Pass!"

"You can't pass twice in a row" Norway insisted.

"Fine." He mumbled. His face went bright red as he ditched his clothes and made his way in the direction of the rock pool.

About a minute later Mathias returned whimpering and whining to Norway about how evil he is.

"Truth or dare?" He managed to challenge once he'd finally recomposed and dressed himself.

"Dare" was the blunt reply.

The Dane gave an evil chuckle. "I dare you to hula dance wearing these!" He held up a hula skirt made up of grass and a flower crown. "Like 'em? I made 'em before."

Norway grit his teeth and internally cursed the Dane. Why'd he pick dare again? He snatched the two items away and went behind a tree to change.

A few minutes later, the Norwegian reappeared, a vague but noticeable blush staining his cheeks.

Denmark burst out laughing and would've probably not stopped if Norway hadn't hit him hard around the head. "Idiot."

Denmark choked back more laughter. "Okay, okay - now show me your dancing!"

Norway scowled before putting back on his emotionless mask and proceeded to do a rather awkward hula dance.

Denmark was almost crying from laughing too much.

He went back behind the trees to get changed before resuming his previous position next to Denmark. "Truth or dare?"

After that stunt, Mathias decided to play it safe for a while. "Truth" he said sheepishly.

Lukas hesitated for a minor split-second before turning to look the other in the eye. "Did you come to save Ice or to spend time with me?"

Denmark looked away. "W-well, both I guess. But probably more the second." He looked at the other and gave a smile to which Norway rolled his eyes at. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Why do you hate me?"

Norway's world froze for a second. "I-I don't" he admitted whilst looking down.

'Well that was weird' Mathias thought to himself, he'd never heard Lukas stutter before. "Y-you don't?"

Lukas shook his head. "Truth or dare?" He decided to move things along.

"Truth."

"Why did you think I hated you?" He seemed slightly hurt.

"W-well you always act like you do and it's hard to tell what you're thinking because you always act all emotionless." He told the truth.

Norway didn't say anything.

"Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Do you love me?" It was random but Mathias was curious.

Norway paused and hugged his knees. "Yes."

Mathias' heart skipped a beat. "R-really?"

"Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Do you love me?"

"'course I do Norge." He smiled softly. "Truth or dare?"

"Dare."

"Kiss me."

Lukas looked at the other in confusion. "What?"

"You heard, now kiss me. A dare is a dare after all." By this point, both faces were flushed pink.

The Dane had a point, a dare was a dare, and Lukas wasn't one for turning them down. "Fine" he said simply.

The Norwegian sat up properly and looked the Dane in the eye. He hesitated for a moment before leaning in slowly and tilting his head to the side. He stopped just when their lips were barely millimetres apart. Denmark's breathing hitched slightly and a second later, lips met and two pairs of eyelids slid shut.

Not wanting to pull away, the two forgot completely about the game and continued to kiss.

Norway's hands made their way to Denmark's hair while Denmark's held a firm grip on Norway's waist, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened and tongues danced. Mathias let himself fall backwards pulling the other down to straddle him, a quiet moan escaping his mouth.

The two were about to go further when they heard the faint sound of sleigh bells ringing. They broke apart and looked around to see a flushed Finland and a faintly embarrassed Sweden sat in their sleigh nearby.

Norway shot up, quickly ditching the Dane and attempting to regain some of his dignity. "That was not what it looked like" he claimed before climbing into the back of the sleigh.

Denmark soon followed, too lovestruck to say anything.

*the Flying Mint*

It was around midday and the ship was docked up in England. The captain stepped off first and admired the familiar view, followed by the rest of the crew who didn't really care about the scenery. "Ah, home sweet home" he sighed to himself.

Lithuania looked up, he could've sworn he'd heard sleigh bells. He was then proven to be correct as a sleigh landed near the ship on the docks.

Finland jumped out first and dashed over to Iceland. He hugged the boy. "Iceland! We're so glad we found you!"

"Yeah little guy, we were worried!" Denmark insisted, despite barely even thinking about him at all.

"Yes." Sweden nodded in agreement.

"Stop it guys, not cool!" The Icelandic complained.

Norway decided he would have his reunion later and made his way over to the captain.

"Hello Arthur," he said as he approached his friend.

"Oh hello Lukas. Nice to see you again," he greeted.

Lukas nodded before scratching flying mint bunny behind the ear. "Arthur, do you know anything about a deserted island north from here? One without any magical creatures?"

A brief moment passed and Arthur's face crossed with anger. "Wanker, he's been doing it again!" Lukas gave a worried look which Arthur picked up on. "Scotland, he likes being a wanker and messing around with magical creatures. Don't worry, I'll see to it. Thank you for letting me know."

Lukas nodded in understanding at the mention of Arthur's brother - he wasn't very fond of magical creatures and how he treated Arthur disgusted him. Though he knew his friend could fight his own battles so he decided to leave him be.

After about ten minutes, everyone had said their goodbyes, including Iceland to his newfound friends: Romano and Japan.

Everybody waved as the sleigh set off and various shouts could be heard between America and Denmark. They had become considerably great friends in the past ten minutes - probably due to their loud and obnoxious personalities.

England sighed in annoyance at his newfound problem, his brother enjoyed corrupting peace and it damn-well pissed him off. He made his way down the steps and it just so happened that he came face to face with said problem.

There waiting for him, stood Ireland, Scotland and Whales…


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: My sincerest apologies for the lack of update. Hope you enjoy.**

The familiar scent of salt lay less prominent here; below a grand apple tree. Under this beast of a plant was the Captain, scrunched up as small as possible in an attempt to become invisible to the world. His calloused hands could feel moisture on the ground, blown in from the port's banks, it allowed moss to take over the gnarled tree bark and insulated the soil around flowers and weeds alike.

Despite the acidic tears that were making their way around the contours of Arthur's cheeks; he felt somewhat safe in this ditch. Away from people and countries he had time to control his thoughts without the intrusion of the obnoxious Alfred, a cursing Italian or the loud Poland. Now he wondered why, why did he run?

That was just it. He had no idea why he froze, why he ran and why or when he started crying.

~The 'House'~

"Dudes! This is totally awesome!" America exclaimed, stars in his eyes. The crew was being led by Scotland. Ireland and Whales into what they described as a house. A home perhaps, but not a house. The walls were to grand for such a word; it was a mansion. "Sí, sí, Arthur never told us he had such a grand cassa!", a happy Spaniard chirped, the emerald eye man currently had his arm slumped over Romano's shoulder. "Well maybe you never asked scone-bastard, and besides I thought hamburger-bastard would know, they're close enough." Southern Italy commented, himself quite impressed.

Behind the group the eldest Kirkland brother began to explain some of the house's heritage and how it had come to be such a large estate. The likes of Germany, Japan, Spain and some of the other countries listened intently but that couldn't be said for all of the crew. Italy, for example, had found the resident cat and, naturally, had proceeded to roll around the floor with while talking in gibberish. Prussia and Poland were playing a game of catch with an expensive-looking vase. Finally, Francis closing in on the younger two of the present Kirklands.

Behind the tulip red curtains that covered a balcony door, Arthur watched carefully noting the quirks of his crew, the small things that had brought them residence on The Mint. France, despite being such a frog, was very good with people, unlike Germany who could win battles even if his Italian companion held him back. They all made up a small fraction of the Mint's stability, they were like fam-.

"Excuse me Mr Britain sir, can I get you some coffee?" It was Lithuanian who had found Britain in his thoughts.

"Um yes, that would be lovely... Wait?! How the hell did you find me?!" Arthur was rather taken aback, no-one had ever spotted him, even as a child he was well hidden from Scotland's party guests.

"Well I could never stay mad at Latvia and Estonia for long so I figured that you'd be back soon... Well Scotland said to be ready for dinner at six O'clock, would you like me to show you to your room, or to get the coffee?" The small country appeared to be slightly nervous in the captains presence.

"No it's fine, I'm sorry I shouldn't of snapped." Without another word Britain dragged himself up from the floor, pulled himself over the corridor and slouched all the way to his room.

"Liet dude, you were right something is definitely wrong with him." Alfred appeared from one of the many doorways to the balcony. The obnoxious man wore concern as a mask, his eyes looming over the hall England had disappeared down. "The Hero won't let this go on! This is mission: Save Captain Kirkland! Tell the others to meet in the court yard after the enemy has left the scene… The Hero is taking the trash out people!"

"Ah, America, sir, perhaps you could keep your voice down? We wouldn't want the 'enemies' to hear us… Sir?"

" Hah, Hah, Hah! The Hero returns!" America strolled down the hall as Lithuania sighed, more obnoxious entered the building. With that Lithuania navigated his way to the kitchen. At every corner new thing were discovered; most being pottery and various artefacts from across the globe. One in particular aught the eye of the country. A sleek, silver dagger, around the length of his forearm it was covered in delicate inscriptions of a foreign tongue. Carefully, he grasp the handle to examine the blade further. It had definitely seen good use, the cold metal being ever so slightly uneven in places, but the craftsmanship was far superior to the likes of his arrows, though they never did help him against Prussia or Mongolia. Further more it had been weighted in away that allowed quick easy flicks of the wrist.

Clank! Upon its return to the stand the dagger had slipped out of his and and onto the floor. The noise rippled. That was strange. Travis took it upon himself to step were the dagger had fell. An echo. How very srange.

"Aye, I see you have found my hunting dagger. Crafted it myself, I did, a fine tool if I do say so myself," The thick Scottish accent filled the hall, "That's also my first choice of weapon when slaying silly little faeries."

Jumping, Lithuania turned to see the eldest of the Kirklands. Still held in hand, the dagger didn't seem all that great any more. True, Lithuania carried tales of dragons and heroes as did most of his companions, but fairies? Were they not the comforts of children? Then again Britain had been persistent in all the Liet had been apart of The Mint. Not long at that. However it was just reasoning to think this was far from a childhood fascination, America after all had been brought up by the pirate and shot ideas of flying rabbits down to the deck. Finally the cold material left his grasp leaving a weightless space between the countries fingers.

"Iron you see, they don't like it. In fact its one of the only vessels capable of finishing such creatures." Scotland then proceeded to twirl the knife in his own hand; letting it glide just past nails and back into the palm of his hand.

To this Liet made an audible 'oh' before looking the Scot in the eye. " It's none of my business, but perhaps you have visited an island to the North recently?"

The response was slow. He took the time for his brows to furrow. The eldest of four brothers; definitely the tallest but still held and upright stature- his shoulders frowning yet held from a slouch. Though the messy style mirrored that of Arthur's, Allistor's hair was a bold red and almost framed his jaw line. An Earring licked the left cheek, silver in colour, most likely iron.

"Ah I remember now, it was a small place, wasn't it now? The place was over run with the fair folk. Damn things. Why do you-"

A bell rang- it's bellow crisp and clear- signalling lunch. Travis couldn't reach the hall quick enough, He stumbled through the halls eager to avoid more conversation with Scotland. By now the rest of the crew had begun to pool in. Italy greeted him cheerfully, but didn't stray too far from Germany. Spain too, seemingly very cheerful gave Liet a nod while dancing around Romano- at this moment his cheeks were red, a clear sign of him being in a huff. Poland, America and Prussia seemed to be in the middle of a heated debate. Next was China, pacing towards the back nearly out of breathe, which didn't matter as the crowd had reached the tall room they would be eating in., Unlike the rest, it was plainly decorated apart from wild flowers bunched together in vases.

The hearty smell of cooked meat surrounded the dishes on the table, one of the dishes the Brit would eat after they docked up, to celebrate Arthur's home coming Liet decided. Speak of the devil, sat at the far end of the table England was sat with Wales in what looked like a friendly conversation. Even Ireland had cracked a smile, who Lithuania had first thought to be the quiet type. Now to pick a seat… Prussia was a messy eater and was now sat at the near end; China sat to his left, no doubt he would be offering plenty of constructive criticism to the dish; Prussia's left wasn't much better, Germany followed by Italy and Romano- sat opposite to the Spaniard, they will only eat pasta so that was a no. Scotland sat at the head of the table, Ireland to his right, too closely followed by France and America facing Po. That left the space between Japan and Britain to the right side of Wales and Scotland.

From there, dinner went pretty smoothly with general chit-chat and what not. Poland had time to catch up with Travis, Japan stayed quite but seemed to be enjoying the dish that was mashed potato, carrots, pale green sprouts, a Yorkshire pudding and cutlets of roast beef topped off with gravy… A lot of gravy. As you can guess, in a room full of pirates this couldn't last long, yet it wasn't the pirates that caused the trouble. Most of them were wasted by now, falling off chair, hiccuping and talking nonsense. Almost.

"Igggggggggggggz! I'll save you! The hero is here!," America rose from his seat to walk closer to his friend, " You know the drill, we were gonna make a plan but the hero don't have time for that!"

"What the bloody hell are you going ion about?! I don't need anybody's help!… and don't call me that." Britain was surprisingly sober.

This went through one ear and out of the other as Alfred went in for a swing against Scotland.

The whisky that Allistor was drinking . " Are you picking a fight lad?" his voice calm and content as he easily caught the flying fist. The rest of the brothers were pale faced, Scotland was probably the strongest between them and had an equally short temper. Now, his fist was clenched, muscled tensed and emerald green eyes centred on America. Loosing balance, swaying side to side, Alfred had no chance and was about to receive a blow to the jaw.

"Argh! Fire! The Scone-Bastard must of-a- set something alight in the -a- kitchen!"

"You Wanker! I wouldn't do that!"

Germany sighed, " It wouldn't be the first time zat has happened,"

The group started to head for the exit, no rush, fire couldn't kill them. "I rould rike to inform you that we have a rile to wait"

"Thank you Japan." Germany replied as he tried to sit America down.

"Duuuuuude! ***hic*** I gotta *hic* save iggz!"

"No need to worry he's right over ther-... The Junk food muncher is right, The captain is gone!"

~Inside~

"Scotland! Don't be an idiot!" Arthur's eyes were watering and the flames had devoured his blazer.

"I can smell it! I will be rid of them!" Allistor travelled further into the roaring blaze, dagger in hand.

The fire continued to eat away at the dining room, whatever seemed almost comical before had quickly deteriorated. No this red abyss couldn't kill them, but it would leave scars, many scars.

 **A/N: Yes, a lot of Lithuania in this chapter and not a lot of ships… Yet. The plan from here is to include more of the crew and not to focus entirely around Captain Kirkland. I'll get the final part of this up over the weekend, hopefully that will be more chapter like. As per usual no hate please, though constructive criticism welcome, thanks for reading.**

 **-Update-**

 **F.Y.I- Just noteing, 'Nessie' refers to the Loch Ness Monster from Scotland and I got 'Goch' from '** **Y Ddraig Goch** **' meaning The Red Dragon in Welsh.**

Smoke trickled into England lungs; like a snake it constrict the oxygen getting through the blood vessels. Menacingly, the black smog tickled his throat causing contorted fits of choking. Reaching his hand out, the skin of the fingers was blistered and violently throbbing. He couldn't see his brother. The hissing fire had masked Scotland's wheezing and blinded the Brit.

The mansion was being eaten form the inside out: glasses had shattered across the carpeted hall; colour had been drained from the walls, replaced with a pallet of cindered destruction and the floor had began to collapse. Allistor didn't seem to be phased by the heat. A slightly crazed glint was ruling the man's emerald, more than determination. "Can hear yooou!", his voiced dragged the words on, The signs of alcohol still clear in his heavy swaying. The metallic gaze of his dagger had met his eye, it's podium had fallen through the floor boards, conforming Lithuania's suspicions, Despite being partially wrecked, the hollow was the size of a small room and what was most disturbing, it showed subtle signs of inhabitance. Remnants of bones, fish bones were clear, as well as plates, Scattered across the floor were the remains of books and scriptures. The most intriguing was a piece of wood that appeared to be a giant tree stump, the surface was scratched, huge dents visible, yet it was also warn to a marble shine.

"Scotland! Please come back!" Arthur cried, a little more desperate than the last time. Still fumbling for his brothers figure, smoke still strangling him, Britain lost his balance and came crashing down to the cold floor.

"Why are you here? What do you want? Why are you here? Your hands are tainted with the blood of my kin. What do you want? You carry a blade, do you intend to kill me? Why are you here? Do you think you, you're strong enough to slay me?" The whisper travelled on an icy draft surrounding the Scot, "You can hear me? That's what you said… Well no matter, I can see you, are you scared? I can smell you, you have no control left, yes?"

Allistor didn't replied, he giggled in a disturbing manner before taking swipes at the space around him. … … … It shrieked a chilling cry before revealing it's bloodied wing. A Reptilian body, lanky yet muscled; crescent curled claws, splattered with ashes; burning nostrils and molten amber eyes. Each of it's scales resembled tiny jewels cascaded onto its muscled form.

" Dragons, yer all just cocky lizards to me" Scotland's words slurred. The beast hissed, revealing a fork tongue.

Meanwhile, England had found there was less smoke gracing the floor than at height. Slowly, he army crawled his way around, attempting to stay clear of the flames. However, they were less prominent now, as if they'd moved on, had had enough of eating the floor boards and had found something more appetising.

"Britain! I came to save you, isn't that fabulous?"

The English man cringed… Francis. He turned around to see just him crawling after him like a dog. Much to his relief, Germany pushed France aside.

"Ja, it's true, America said you might need a hand".

Well, Britain thought, I'd be fine on my own, and I definitely don't need the help of Frog Face, somewhere, he must of appreciated it, because he nodded and signalled them to follow.

"Oh my! He's just so adorable!" Ready to give the wanker a piece of his mind, Britain turned back, but it wasn't England the French man was referring to, it was a man dressed in green, and around double the size of some of Arthur's gnome friends. It had to be, but then it couldn't be. Scotland had once been at peace with such creatures. Ireland had gotten along with them particular well until Allistoer had slaughtered them. A leprechaun, yes he remembered now, Padric, Ireland had been particular fond of this one. If Scotland hadn't- this couldn't be good.

"France, you look after Padric, and Germany, I need you to get my brothers,." This was the first confidence he had shown since Arthur had gotten here.

From there, they scrambled in there separate ways. And it was just around the corner for England.

The scot was lay on the floor, the dragon about to take a bite out of him.

"Is someone else here? Did you bring them?" No you did not," They dragon threw Scotland aside like a rag-doll.

"This is your doing isn't it? Don't kill him, it would do more harm than good," Britain's voice, "I know you're angry, but can't we talk this out?" It was calmer than usual- taking a monotone flat.

"Sssss, I don't listen to you. Why, You left didn't you? You could of helped us, you knew what was going to happen."

Arthur couldn't say a word- he did leave .

"No it wasn't, it was ours" Instantly, the flames died, Goch knelled in a fashion to the voice of Wales.

Ireland nodded in agreement, " We Could have done something." Padric was sat on his shoulder, "Stupid bloody Lizard! You could have hurt someone, I aught to -!" The feisty Leprechaun was silenced by his friend.

"It was Nessie! She went missing, aye, she did!" It appeared that Allistor had come around.

"so.. vhat are they talking about?" Ludwig whispered to Francis…

"Oui, oui, I see it now. This is obviously like Romeo and Juiliet- a romantic tale, destined to end in fiery love and des-" Germany silenced the French man.

"I went down to the Loch one day and she had gone, kapuff!The fairy sods were laughing at me and, and, and. I hate them!" The drunk continued.

While the emotional Scotland continued, Wales tended to the dragons wing. By now the blood had dried in blotchy patches over the thin membrane. It would take a while to heal but thry needed a sober Scotland to level with him.

"England, I know it's a lot to ask, but perhaps you could stay one more night? We should be able to reason with him tomorrow, and explain these mishappenings to your friends?"

The Captain just wanted to leave. They'd seen enough already. He stole a glance of his three brothers. No, he'd escaped and hadn't had it all that bad, he'd stay one more night. "Fine. We'll have to move to the east quarters- the stairways won't be safe here so we'll have to go around." Kirkland then slumped his elder brother over his shoulder and guided him to his room. Now Britain could see the damage left in the hall. The sutt was still active. When Britain thought about how long it had taken him to crawl such a short way, it worried him. A second later and Scotland could have been victim to he razor talons that belonged to Goch. Arthur kept his eyes down as they passed his crew. Spain was carefuly examining Romano, Italy had latched his self to Germany's shoulder, and Japan was batting China away, yet they all offered a glance as their captain had past by. He had hardly spoke to them, and the captain had only used his favourite when brushing off Romano, usualy the loud mouth would have a lot to say.

Finally, Britain had found a sofa to lay his sleepy brother on.

"Hey *** hic *** Bro? I'm sorryfor the trouble I caused you… * hic * Things could have been so much better if I hadn't been such a * hic*" Allistor secluded to sleep.  
"Indeed,." Whispered a sad Brit

-The next day-

Sunlight peaked through the curtains and dusted Scotland's nose. First of all, he knew he wasn't in his room from the none existent smell of whisky. Then there was the wiry feel of one of the woollen blankets that Wales kept around the house. The event of the night before came back to him in fragments , he was tired and had the familiar hangover sensation, but then he was awake so he dragged himself up anyway.

No, he wouldn't do that, the room was full of murmurs, the last time this had happened he'd rigged a game of cards to take the prize money, when his guests found out they weren't all that pleased.

"Dude, I know your awake, Iggz here does the exact same thing when he's feeling guilty."

That was America wasn't it? His younger brothers boyfriend, or friend, Allistor didn't really care.

"Scottie, get up." Wales said.

"Sod off!You know I hate that name."

"Get up." The voice stern now.

Scotland was about to grumble until he heard a low growl. Slipping his hand under the pillow he searched for the dagger. Gone. Desperate, he stroked past his cheek were his earring usually lay.

"Alright, what the hell I going on?"

"You were just telling us how Nessie went missing." Wales continued.

Still unsure, Allister opened his eyes. The Mint's crew were sat around the room. In the corner, Ireland stared distantly out of the crevice between the curtains. Wrapped in his hands was Was Padric, funny, Scotland was sure that he had been rid of him a while back. Of course Wales was stood at the end of the sofa, his dragon laying a serpentine head on his shoulders.

" Aye, he did, and then some cocky bastards with wings came along and ridiculed me so I taught them a lesson. From there it was addictive, just a rush..."

Lithuania nodded, Britain had explained over a rushed breakfast. The whole Kirkland family could see these creatures, well, it only seemed to be America that refused to see them. It was the reason England's journey had begun in the first place. Like any siblings they bickered, From what Arthur told, it as always the other three but that wasn't all true, he was most likely just as bad. The likes had Norway and Romania had sent letters speaking of enormous massacres of magical creatures across the globe, while Allistor was on his conquests. Then he'd come back to the manor covered in blood. All inhuman creatures had stayed well away from the manor. Ireland and Wales had hidden a dragon egg and Padric. The third brother wanted nothing to do with Scotland and instead became a pirate.

"Then I thought to myself, maybe it would get her attention. Of course I've not seen her to this day. That's it." The story ended.

"Don't expect my pity," Arthur spat, "We shall keep an eye out for your friend, any more trouble and I'll be the one to dog you into the World Council," He drew a breathe, "What's more, I'm sure these to idiots can keep you in check from now." Britain ended his speech.

-Time Skip-

The wing nudged the side of the boat, and the silver stares looked down at them.

"You were almost as awesome as ze awesome Prussia today, Captain"

"Damn right! Dude you were a HERO!"

Captain Kirkland denied all yet still wore a smirk under his lip, spending the rest of the night drinking rum and singing merry songs.


End file.
